A Tale as Old as Time
by AngelEmperor
Summary: Under dark circumstances, the kind outcast and the bitter prince meet, and with time, they learn as well. Code Geass "Disney's Beauty and the Beast" AU; Lelouch x Suzaku
1. Chapter 1

Yup, that's _Code Geass_ and Disney's _Beauty and the Beast._ Together! :D

I probably should get it out here right now that I'm _terrified _about how well this went. It's not my original idea, but a plot bunny from **Aki1 **that I adopted. (Thanks for all the ideas and suggestions too!) It's a positively brilliant idea that I am not only absolutely thrilled to be writing, but also having a _blast_doing so. So in short, oh my gosh, I hope this lives up to your excitement, Aki1. *panicpanicasjfdjsaspload*

Anyway, I'll also put it out here right now that this is _**not** completely _a sparkles and unicorns fic. There will be angst, there will be darker moments. Just a warning to anyone expecting nothing but "Disney Magic!" XD This chapter itself isn't too bad, mild language is about it. But don't get me wrong... there will still be moments of sparkles and silliness and such here and there. XD

Another long chaptered-fic too. Yay if you like them, I do too! If not... I'm sorry...?

Also, this chapter may be subject to minor adjustments. I'll make note of it here if there are any!

Um, please enjoy!

* * *

"Don't do this. It's completely ridiculous!"

"He's right. You may end up regretting it."

"There's no good reason to trust her… Please sir."

"Honestly…Nothing good ever came out of witch."

"Come on! There must be some other-"

They were awful. Positively awful. With every ounce of bitterness in his body, he silenced the seemingly endless crowd gathering around him.

"It'll be fine." He assured them. Had he not ingrained it into them that this may be the chance he'd been waiting for? And all they had been giving him in return was _this_. His patience was wearing dangerously thin by now and his temper was beginning to flare. It didn't help that he hadn't been in the best of moods in the first place either. With one hand clenched into a tight fist, he promptly waved them away with the other. "You should have been taking care of her, _like I asked, _instead of all this imploring. Now get back to your positions." And there was not one more protest as the hall went utterly silent.

Wordlessly, he pulled his cloak tightly around his shoulders and walked out between the grand double doors that formed his castle's entrance. Even the dark starless night could not conceal the bright wisps of green hair blowing from beneath the hood of the cloaked figure behind the gate. Approaching the tall black iron bars, he placed a gloved hand on the latch.

"One wish?" He asked. "And you will heal her?"

"Grant that one wish. That's all you need to do." She whispered. "And I will try my best, young prince."

He could not place all of his trust in her just yet. "And you will cure her first, before I grant that wish?"

The figure's exposed chin revealed a nod. "A fair deal, is it not?"

He didn't reply, but undid the latch with narrowed eyes, and the gate creaked open. "Enter." He commanded and turned sharply on his heel. The witch followed slowly behind, much to his displeasure. She had walked at a perfectly normal gait beforehand, but he bit his tongue. Now was not the time for any complaints, if this so-called miraculous witch desired it, then it would have to be tolerated.

They entered the castle, slowly, painfully so, making their way through the main hall. He could feel the eyes of his servants watching them as they came in and shot a dark look at the corners where they were poorly hidden.

"No one is to enter her room until I allow it." He declared without stopping his stride. _Please. _He added silently, choosing not to voice it.

Staying far ahead of the cloaked woman, he traveled up the sweeping staircases, through the corridors of the western wing and with a deep breath opened the doors to the familiar bedroom.

It was dark, like the rest of the castle that night, but the white of the walls and curtains illuminated it the faintest bit more. (_"…Then when you see it, you're room will be brighter than the snow was.")_ He left the door open for the witch, and slowly, with quiet footsteps, walked further into the room.

"Nunnally." He whispered in a voice rarely heard by his servants as he lifted the white veils around the sprawling bed. "It's me."

The tiny figure in the center moved—only slightly, but moved nonetheless.

"Brother?" She asked meekly. He slid onto the edge of the bed beside her, removing his gloves so that she could feel the warmth of his hands around her own.

"I'm here." He brushed aside strands of her long wavy hair and kissed her forehead. "And soon, someone else will be here too, Nunnally. Someone who says she can help, and quite possibly, for real this time."

Her mouth opened slightly in surprise. "Brother…?"

"She's going to cure you. You'll be able see your room, your castle, all of us… You can feel the grass on your feet, walk through the halls of the castle, and maybe…go into the town." He drew her hands together warmly. "And we can forget about father… about why were even here in the first place. After all these years… everything will be okay."

Nunnally freed one of her hands and pressed it against her brother's pale cheek and giggled slightly, though it came out as something closer to a cough. "You're going to cry."

He opened his eyes and smiled. "I suppose I am…" He touched his own face. "It's been awhile, hasn't it?"

"Mm, it has. So if this will make you happy again…" She beamed back with a weak smile that contained so much more power than the strength she possessed to give it. "I'm happy too."

Hearing footsteps behind them, he turned to see the witch enter the room, her form blurred from behind the shield of the canopy.

"Leave." She said upon reaching the place where he sat. He frowned and almost objected before stopping himself once again. Once again, there was no room for argument here.

He released his sister's hands slowly with some hesitation, but managed it and stood. Lifting the translucent curtains, his gaze lingered on the crippled girl and he slowly walked out of the veritable cocoon surrounding her bed. With a final defeated gaze, he nodded at the witch without a sound, and left the room.

He waited outside her room for what seemed like hours, pacing back and forth, leaning against the marble walls with nothing to take his mind off of what was happening only feet away, behind the closed doors. He might have fallen asleep at some point or another during his wait, but the strange mix of apprehension and eagerness turned the entire period into a blurry haze. (It occurred to him later that the witch herself may have had something to do with it, but he had way of confirming that.) He swore he saw light spilling from beneath the crack of the door, red, blues, violet, and greens, a peach color, faintly orange, turning white, then blood red before dying off abruptly. But he dismissed it as all just a dream, made up of twisting emotions and growing drowsiness, and looked away.

He hadn't the faintest idea of how long it had taken, but the time came eventually, and the door swung open by itself, without any noticeable encouragement from anyone. Immediately, he was alert once again. Sliding up the wall from where he had been sitting, he stumbled forward through the door. _Don't expect miracles, don't expect miracles. _He repeated in his head. One too many failures, one too many attempts had gone awry for such dreams to still have a place in reality. But this time, something was undeniably different.

Strangely, it felt odd to see the room exactly the same as how he had left it, like he had been expecting everything to have changed in the time he had spent outside of the room. The same low amount of light spilled in from the tall windows, and not a shelf, not a single thing had been moved or misplaced. Her bed came up quicker that he imagined, and he swallowed and lifted the veil.

Lying down, but awake, Nunnally greeted him with a kind smile. "Brother…" Nunnally said, eyes wide open. "You're beautiful… Just like I remembered." He slowly sank onto the side of the bed into the soft swirls of the cotton and silk. He found himself smiling as well, unable to think of anything else in that moment. She ran her hand along her brother's face slowly, matching up the feel of his features that she had become so accustomed to, with what she now saw and played with the soft black locks that framed it.

This time, it _was_ different.

"Nunnally… You… you…" Her eyes hadn't changed, large and violet, a different shade from his own, but similar nonetheless. They held within them what seemed to be infinite kindness, an untouched innocence despite all that had transpired in the years earlier.

"Can you…?" He asked quietly. She bit her lip.

"I don't know. I suppose I'll have to try…" She shook as she tried to prop herself up, struggling to make and movement at all. Suddenly, all the joy was draining away. Gasping for air, she shuddered and gave in. "I can't… I'm sorry brother, I…" She collapsed back into the deep folds of her sheets, shaking hard before going motionless.

"Nunnally!" Panic stuck him immediately and he snapped. He had placed far too much hope on this, and now it was all gone, right before his eyes. He quickly honed in on the witch standing at the foot of the bed, noticing her for the first time since he re-entered the bedroom. "What the hell is this!" He shouted to her, standing up from the bed with a violent motion towards his unconscious sister. "What did you do to her!"  
Two arms even paler than his own, frighteningly pale, drifted out of the folds of her billowing cloak and dropped its hood. Her face was beautiful, if not vacant, with rivers of green hair draping over her shoulders and thick bangs above sharp golden eyes that seemed to contain far too much wisdom of the world and it's horrors for a face so young.

"She can see again—I've healed her." The dullness of her voice infuriated him. "Aren't you happy, prince? Be thankful that I was able to do that. What ails her is far from simple: a smart boy like you is bound to have realized that."

"You said you would cure her entirely, not just return her sight." He countered warningly. "You broke our deal, and on top of that… she's…"

Showing the first sign of any emotion, she raised an eyebrow.

His eyes narrowed and he stepped towards her. "When you arrived at that gate out there, you told me you were capable of wonders. Capable of healing any and all ailments for the mere price of granting that wish of yours. You lied..."

Unfazed by his rising temper, she didn't move an inch. "I said I would _try_ to do those things. You were too blinded by desperation to notice that, it seems. I am at no fault here, and she is better off than she was. Can you not show any appreciation for that?" If she was disgusted with him, her blank face did not show it.

"Unfortunately, that's not the way I see it." He answered in a low growl. "You broke your half of our agreement. And even if you deny that, you've sent her into a fever. That's _your_ fault, all your _damn fault...!_" He was shaking now, about ready to throw any and all self-control to the wind.

"It will pass." Was the witch's calm reply. "I may not have solved all of her troubles, but I already said it, one gone is certainly better than none at all. So calm your temper, because you're wasting your time. The rest of her illness is beyond my capability, arrogant little prince."

That was it. He had enough of this condescending witch and her lies. "I don't _care _about these excuses. It's simply apparent that you failed your end of the contract. Leave the castle _NOW!_ You'll receive no wish from me." With that, he flung the curtains aside and made for the door without thinking. From the corner of his eye, he saw the first genuine reaction from her, as she stepped back in an emotion that could neither be quite called shock or anger.

So it surprised him even more, when her figure was already there, blocking the door.

"Out of the way." He said. "You'll be leaving this room with me." She didn't reply. "I said move." Still no answer. "_Out of my way you-_" He raised his arm to shield himself from the sudden gust that blew through the room, sending papers everywhere and lifting the snow-white curtains far into the air.

He slowly turned to see the windows behind them closed. Remaining calm, he turned back to the witch. A faint red light glowed beneath her heavy bangs.

"If you are that _ungrateful, _perhaps a small lesson would be beneficial to you." She stepped towards him and grabbed his wrist with a firm and icy grip. He found himself unable to speak, unable to resist. He stood there frozen as the wind picked up around them, lifting their hair up into tangled patterns and sending their capes rippling up around their forms.

"You are a kind boy..." She whispered, her voice eerily gentle and her face up next to his. "Selfless, compassionate, loving… you've buried it all too deep within yourself for anyone but your sister to find it. You wallow in your misery of banishment, of failure; you've become cold, bitter, and angry in its stead. So…" He tried to withdraw himself away from her pressing gaze, but still found no strength to move. The wind continued to swirl around them violently and he found it harder and harder to stay awake as the background faded into black, it's dark tendrils threatening to take him in and hold him there forever. "Until you can reclaim that kindness that you were born with… you will live a life of solitude, with nothing but sorrow and trials, your cursed subjects' company, and the demon's dreadful eye to haunt your every move." His eyes were drifting shut by now, but her voice remained clear. "I'll give you six years. It should be plenty of time. Experience true pain, and learn these things, prince, before your one reason for living is taken for good."

Suddenly, he was released from the binds and the wind died abruptly, but he didn't notice. All he heard was the horrendous screams of what could only be his subjects in the floors below, and all he could see was the darkness descending over his vision. His strength gave away and he collapsed in the middle of the floor at the place where the witch—now gone, had stood. The last thing he saw before unconsciousness claimed him was his own reflection on a broken, overturned mirror—identical, save for his left eye, now glowing a deathly red.

* * *

_Five Years Later; in a small Britannian village_

One minute, she had been merrily going about the house, listening to the clanks, whirrs and frustrated shouts drifting out of the basement with some amusement. The next, a look of horror descended over her face as she stared dead ahead into the depths of her empty cupboard. It was always these little things that slipped her mind.

"Suzaaakuuuu-kuuuuunnn!"

The young man, hearing his name being shouted desperately, stopped on the path and blinked. Swiveling back around he spotted the source of the call sticking her head out of the kitchen window, waving her arm slowly back and forth in order to capture his attention.

"I forgot to tell you that we need cheese too! Any old kind will do! I'm making my lentil soup tonight! The one with blueberries and the-"

"Haha, yes, I, um, know!" He called back to Cecile faking his best, big eager smile. "It'll be… great!" He tried to put as much emphasis as he could on the 'great.' "I'm sure Lloyd will love it too!" Never had there been a more blatant lie. Luckily, it didn't seem to faze her.

"Hm. He avoided it last time I made it though…" Cecile raised a finger to her chin in sincere thought. "Maybe he wasn't hungry. Ah, ah! Sorry for wasting your time Suzaku-kun! Go on!"

"Right!" He gave her a far more honest smile before taking her advice and continuing on his way.

Lloyd had once asked him why he always made these runs into town. (Cecile had given him a swift whack on the head afterwards, but he answered the question nonetheless.) He had said that he didn't mind it at all, and that he just wanted to get out of the house. Neither of them really bought it, but that wasn't important, as they probably knew the real reason anyways.

"Good morning Nina. It's a lovely day isn't it?"

The timid, glasses-clad girl shrunk back a bit. "Yes… wonderful. Do you… um, want anything?"

"Ah yeah…" He looked through his bag briefly and produced a few coins. "The carrots look good. I'll take two of those." He beamed and handed her the money. She shrunk back further into her stand, poking a small hand out to accept it. "…Thank you."

"Thanks!" He started to walk away before stopping. A bit of small talk couldn't hurt. "You know, Euphemia really likes your strawberries! She mentioned them to me the other day, and I thought I'd tell you that!" He grimaced as Nina suddenly looked like she was about to keel over right there on the spot. "Okay then… maybe I shouldn't have said that…" He mumbled to himself. Time to make a recovery (Or at least try.) "Ahaha…! I'll see you later then!" No reply came and he hurriedly walked away, the stares of the other sellers that lined the streets hot on his back.

He sighed. Maybe the next shopkeeper would be a bit kinder. Nina was awfully shy after all…

The next one greeted him with a sigh and a tired expression, his only words were to "hurry up" and "stop dawdling."

No such luck, it seemed. The next three vendors all gave him the same wary stare; the same fake smiles and forced kindness. It was hopeless. After living there for over 12 years, he thought the town would have warmed up to him by _now, _but alas, nothing had changed. Sitting on side of a calmer street, he carelessly set down his baskets and rested his chin on his palm. 12 years of going into town everyday, 12 years of going in hopes that the people would for once give him a real smile and still: no results.

In frustration, he kicked a small rock down the stone street. He told himself that he wouldn't let it get to him, that he was happy anyways. But he liked everyone, he was nice to everyone: so why couldn't they just find it in themselves to return the favor?

Eleven, Eleven, he reminded himself. Oh, he was getting sick of that number. The Holy Britannian Empire and its ceaseless conquests had finally reached overseas: and in the process turned him and everyone else from his country into a number, a mark branding them as second class-citizens.

"Suzaku?" His heart leapt as sparkling lilac-eyes suddenly consumed his vision without any warning.

"Wha!" He fell over backwards in surprise, his head narrowly missing the wall behind him. Opening his eyes, he looked up to see a concerned Euphemia, hands to her mouth in alarm.

"I'm sorry!" She hurriedly kneeled over to help him sit back up. "You just looked so down, I was worried, I mean, your always so cheerful, and-"

"It's all right!" He waved his hands frantically, trying to show he was okay. "I'm fine! It's not your fault, I was just surprised to see you right…there."

"Oh." She lowered her hand. Euphemia Lee was without a doubt the absolute treasure of that sleepy little town. She was kind and innocent; beautiful too, her pink hair flowered out like a balloon around her. There was that sweet face and elegant posture too; all like a princess. Shopkeepers delighted when she came to see them, men flocked from towns near and far to try to win her affections. It was pretty much impossible not to love her.

And Suzaku really liked her. He really did. She had never shunned him, she welcomed him with open arms from the moment he came to the village, greeting him with a smile, pulling him along for walks down the streets with her, she was really very sweet, but…

He didn't _love_ her in the same way she _loved_ him.

"Suzaku…" She smiled timidly while holding intriguing gleam within her eyes as she avoided his direct gaze. Despite knowing what was coming, he smiled back.

"Yes?"

"I was thinking… would you like to come over for dinner tonight? Just the two of us!" She reached for his hand, which, not wanting to make her upset, he let her have.

And therein lay his other problem with the citizens of the town. Euphemia had taken a liking to him the instant she laid her eyes on him—and made it her mission to get him to feel the same way. And it didn't help that the mayor of the town was none other than her rather frightening older sister, and his aversion to Euphy's constant attempts to make him and herself a couple (However courteous they always were) had not only earned him an essentially permanent place as the town outcast, but also the unending _subtle wrath _of big sister Cornelia. He almost shuddered just thinking about it.

"Euphy…" He racked his brain for a good excuse. There _had_ to be something. "I really would love to, but I'm afraid one Lloyd's inventions just broke down. And quite badly this time, so he'll need both my and Cecile's help." It wasn't totally a lie, he thought, saying that something probably _would_ break that night, and Lloyd would subsequently drag his housemates into helping him fix it.

Her smile disappeared and she tilted her head to the side quizzically. "Which one is this?"

"You know how my house is always so cool and refreshing here in the summer…?" He almost cringed at how fake his voice sounded. "It's the machine that keeps it that way."

"Oh, oh! Yeah!" Her face lit up. Euphemia had a habit of taking everything that he said without a second thought. "Well, I guess that's okay…you need to tell me when you're free. It seems like you're always working..." Suzaku hadn't really bothered to give it much thought, but she had a point. "…And that's not very good for you, you know? So be careful."

Suzaku began to gather his baskets as he listened to her speak, stopping only after she had finished. "Maybe that's true, but to be honest, I'm fine with it, Euphy. You don't have to worry." He tucked the baskets under his arm and stood, offering her his hand. She accepted it and he helped her back up to her feet.

"Then I guess I'll just have to trust you here…Then can I at least tell you to be careful not to get into any trouble because of it?"

"Fine, fine." He held his palms open in defeat and grinned, trying to shake the sudden dark mood that had descended over their street corner. If her expression was telling the truth, it seemed to do what he had intended. "I really do need to be going now, but it was nice talking to you.."

"Same!" She giggled. It was a sweet sound, cheery and bright, enough to stir a familiar pang of guilt in his chest. "I'll get a date next time, right?"

Suzaku, who was already walking down the street, hesitated to answer. "Well… I'll see about that…? I'll see you later!" He waved, and then hurried off, leaving a partially confused, partially disappointed Euphemia on the street corner.

Really, he felt a bit awful for constantly turning her down. Other than Gino and Cecile, (When she opted to take him in, Lloyd just sort of went with it. He didn't mind though, Lloyd wasn't really for or against anyone.) Euphemia was arguably the only person to have ever shown him real kindness. He just didn't feel the same way as she did, and it had to come along and complicate things.

Swallowing those thoughts, Suzaku carefully swung the door to his house open. He had been over-thinking all sorts of disheartening things that morning, so perhaps home would provide some relief.

"I'm back!" He called.

"Ah, Suzaku-kun!" Cecile quickly ran to greet him, though not with a particularly bright expression. So much for relief. "I know this is sudden, but you'll need to just go with it. Lloyd's in a bit of a…tizzy right now."

"Why?" Suzaku frowned; his thoughts immediately jumping to all sorts of awful situations the inventor could've gotten himself into. Cecile's worried expression was not helping.

"Relax, it's actually not a bad thing." Cecile reassured him. "A messenger dropped by while you were gone. Apparently, Lloyd's gotten a request to dine with an especially wealthy young man tomorrow night, and he's asking for Lloyd's help with something." The inventor dashed by the pair, practically shouting about something too fast to be understood. "Unfortunately, Lloyd wants to have that project he's been working on finished before he goes…you know how he hates leaving unfinished work… And that goal's a bit further off than he'd like."

"Oh, well that's a very good thing then!" Suzaku replied, his mood brightening. "This might be the break he's been waiting for, right?"

"Yes, quite possibly! Now if only we could get him to calm down a bit first, else we'll be hearing this—" She motioned in Lloyd's general direction, where his shouts and various mechanical noises originated. "All night." With a long sigh, she left him for the kitchen while grumbling something about how she could have ended up living with the unusual inventor,

Suzaku chuckled and followed her in. "But isn't this normally what we hear all night?"

"Ah, but it'll be louder now!" And Suzaku couldn't disagree.

* * *

Dinner that night was odd, to say the least. (Not that it was ever 'normal.')

Cecile, having finally dragged Lloyd away from his work demanding that he at least eat dinner with his housemates, did her best to keep things under control, but the inventor seemed to get more and more unsettled with every second away from his machines. Cecile had once told Suzaku that the man liked his inventions far more than any person… and Lloyd had done absolutely nothing to prove that statement wrong.

"Lloyd?"

"Eh?" He looked up from the ominously blue soup that he twirled his spoon around in.

"Can you at least say when you'll be leaving?" Cecile questioned, her voice like honey.

"Well…" He shifted his glasses. "He requested that I arrive for dinner, so I ought to be leaving in the morning…"

"And you'll be back…?"

"I'll send a message when I get there and tell you then." He dropped his spoon in some sort of sudden understanding, sending up a small splash. "Hm. Must be a snobbish boy."

Cecile gave him a sharp glare and a forced smile. "Don't make judgments, Lloyd." He glared back. "Well… Suzaku-kun! How did your trip to town go?"

"Fine." He replied, reaching for a piece of bread to save him from Cecile's soup. "I mean, not anything out of the ordinary… Euphy was there."

"Oho, still denying that Euphemia?" Lloyd asked with a sly grin, his spoon suddenly a tool for giving a poke one's arm from across the table.

"Well, I haven't turned her _down_…" _Not directly, at least._

Lloyd appeared to be prepared to make another comment on that matter, but Cecile's warning glance promptly shut him up.

"…Not interested in women then?" He continued, still quite bluntly.

"… Well, I haven't thought about it." He worked hard at shredding his bread into lumps to hopefully absorb the glaring bowl of liquid beneath him. With Euphemia, all he could do was hope that she'd eventually understand that all of his polite refusals really meant that he wasn't going to love her in the same way anytime soon. "Euphy…she's very sweet and all, just…"

Lloyd suddenly interrupted him with a snort, loudly declaring his lack of interested. "Whatever. If you don't want money it's not my problem." Cecile responded with a dark glance and a thump to the head, sending Lloyd writhing down onto the table in pain.

"We're better off than most of the people in this town, and you know it! And this is not even a matter of money in the first place! If he doesn't want to be with her, that's fine, so be respectful!" She hissed under her breath.

Suzaku laughed nervously and decided it best to change the subject back to the original topic. "By the way, who is the man who invited you? Is he well-known over in the city or something?"

"Honestly? You don't know?" Lloyd responded, popping back up. Suzaku shook his head.

"You know that old mansion east of here?"

He nodded. "The one that's back near the forest, right?"

Lloyd clapped his hands together. "Congratulations! He lives there."

Suzaku was still slightly confused. "But isn't it abandoned?"

"Not anymore. It seems that this boy just came and fixed it up a bit."

"Oh… then that'd make sense." He supposed that it only went to show just how wealthy this man was. He had only seen it from a distance, and even that had been years ago, but he remembered the mansion being in such disrepair that it could hardly be called such. He went quiet for a moment. "If that's the case… does he know if there really is anyone in the castle back there?"

Lloyd stared at him for a second in some sort of mild shock. Suzaku couldn't blame him. It was an odd question to be coming out of his mouth. "I wouldn't know. But honestly, no one's ever been able to get anywhere near that old palace, so I'd doubt he'd have any idea."

"Are you into those rumors?" Cecile asked him softly. "You know…"

'Oh… no, not really. I was just curious." Suzaku idly rotated his spoon in his hand. The town had been plagued with rumors of some twisted inhabitant of that "unreachable castle" for just about five years; right after a large fire had swept through the town. They ranged as far as a mere social outcast, to some dreadful murderer in hiding; some townsfolk even believed it was a real _monster _living there.

Suzaku wasn't sure what to make of it. As far as he could see, the thought of a real monster living there was completely outlandish (but sometimes he had to admit that the villagers stories, however fabricated they were, gave him a bit of a chill) and a murderer would still be a stretch. Perhaps someone did live back there, but saying that no one had ever found away to reach the castle, he figured he wouldn't be finding out anytime soon. And it was more likely than not just something that had stuck from the time when the whole town was busy coming up with things to distract themselves from the destruction left by the fire.

"Suzaku." Lloyd bent over the table, waving his hand in front of his nose in an attempt to bring him back to reality. "My, you're spacing out plenty tonight."

"I guess I'm just tired." He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. He wasn't sure if that really was the entire reason for his distracted state, but supposed that it sounded about right.

Cecile carefully studied his tired eyes before coming to a conclusion. "Why don't you go get some sleep then? It's fine; I can take care of cleaning up the kitchen tonight, and I'll help out Lloyd too."

"Cecile, I can't-" He began to protest.

"Then it's settled! I'll do your work tonight." She practically leapt out of her chair when she bent over to Suzaku. "Honestly, you work too hard every day, Suzaku-kun. You're doing your share of housework, on top of helping out around town, while pursuing your own interests, and helping Lloyd... It's no wonder you're finally tiring out."

"Cecile…" He couldn't hold back a little smile.

"You deserve the break." She waved him off. "Go get some sleep."

Giving in (with some remaining hesitation), he stifled a yawn, slid out of his chair and left the small table, making for his bedroom.

"Good night, Lloyd, Cecile." He waved lazily to both of them, and fell asleep the minute he hit his bed, with thoughts of mansions and rumors enduring in his mind.

* * *

Though Suzaku nearly overslept Lloyd's departure, he awoke just in time and it ended up going off without a hitch. Lloyd had happily announced once again that he'd send a message that night to tell them of when he'd be back, and then rode off, his "good-bye" hardly audible (or non-existant) over the thunder of his horse. After that, the day fell back into a typical lull.

Suzaku, now feeling much more alert and rested, decided that a stop at the town's little food spot might be a good way to break up the day. He quietly slipped into the coffee house, seating himself at a table in the far corner of the place, near Anya, who, as usual, silently drew various people and places around her in velvety black ink. He began to watch her work as he waited for his tea to come, marveling how perfectly the girl could replicate the scene outside of the window; each leaf, cloud, and line was like an exact copy of the real view. Before long, he found himself mesmerized by it, his tea arriving with him hardly even noticing it.

"Hey, Suzaku!" An arm draped itself across his shoulder and drew him in tight, instantly ripping him from his trance. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

Suzaku, thrown off balance, struggled to get out of the near chokehold and make a response. "Y-yeah…!" He managed to shrug Gino's arm off of his neck and looked up at the younger man above him. "What are you doing here?"

"What else would I be doing in a coffee house?" He beamed, apparently finding this enormously funny, and pulled up a chair to bestride, throwing his arms idly over the headrest. "If you mean what am I doing in town, I'm restocking my wares. I went to the city, and God, it was something. Sold out within a few days. But not the point! I should be the one asking what _you're_ doing _here, _given that you never take a break for anything."

Suzaku shook his head. "Well, I have a bit of free time—Lloyd's out of town. I figured I'd try to break up the monotony."

"Out of town, eh? Good business?"

"So it seems. There's a well-to-do man who requested his help with something, but I don't know what it is, and I honestly, I don't think Lloyd does either. But no sense in turning it down, right?" He watched the steam rise from his mug and realized (with a stifled laugh) how the whole thing sounded pretty ridiculous when he put it like that. "He lives in that old mansion."

Gino frowned. "The one by the forest?" Suzaku nodded a yes, virtually launching Gino as far as he could over the chair. "No way… everyone's been steering clear of the forest since all those castle rumors started coming up, so that's been what …about five years? This guy must either be from a ways away, or completely oblivious to general chitchat if he wants to live so close it. I'd bet money that if he requested to see anyone other than Lloyd, they wouldn't have gone."

"Oh, really...?" Suzaku swallowed hard. Gino's words somehow made him uncomfortable, like Lloyd shouldn't be there, like things were about to go sour, and he found himself wishing that he wouldn't have mentioned it.

"Hey." Gino's hand was circling around in front of his face. "All of that stuff is just hearsay, right? You'll all be fine." As much as he tried to tell himself that he believed it, he couldn't seem to find it in him.

They continued to talk for the rest of the hour, Suzaku asked him about how business was for the young merchant, about what the city and other parts of the country were like, how Anya's half of the business was going (She continued to draw, hardly even stopping to look up at the pair.) As interesting as it was, and no matter how many times he assured himself that it was just irrational fear, he couldn't shake the ominous feeling that the start of the conversation had given him, and it held a portion of his attention throughout. It was as if his whole opinion of Lloyd's venture had been flipped upside down, and all because of a fairly casual statement, one that probably shouldn't have provoked such turbulence in him.

Long after Suzaku had finished his tea, Gino decided that he best be going back to his place, and headed out, pulling Anya along with him. Hastily, Suzaku did the same and left the café, making for his house immediately to hopefully find something to calm his pointlessly disturbed nerves.

Of course, all he found was the usual housework and a busy Cecile, nether of which helped at all. From there, it only got worse. Hours passed and still no message had arrived, not the smallest note giving nothing but a date or time. Night fell, morning came, another day, and not a word had arrived from Lloyd.

The remaining two members of the household in an unspoken agreement knew that they could not just smile and ignore it any longer. That afternoon, Suzaku and Cecile sat at the remarkably empty table in dead silence.

"Well…" Cecile was twiddling her thumbs at a near frantic pace under the table where he couldn't see. "He's not coming back soon."

"…He isn't." Regretting that he hadn't voiced his concerns earlier, Suzaku avoided looking directly at her. "Do you think…? I mean, that he…?"

"I'm sure he's fine. That idiot probably just forgot to send the message and got all caught up in his work..." Cecile insisted softly. "We're just being too anxious about this. It's nothing at all."

"Right, right. That's all it is, he is forgetful…" The false optimism was painfully mutual. "Maybe…" Suzaku hesitated. "Maybe I should go check. I could take the other horse to the mansion and find him. If he's there, there's no harm done, and I could even help him out if he needs it." He paused. "And even if he didn't… make it…there, I might be able to find him along the way and get him back home safely. Please, it's really the only option, Cecile."

Cecile shook her head stubbornly. "It may be the only thing we can do, but I'll go, not you. If something did happen to him while on the way there, you could very well wind up in the same position."

"But I've been down that route more than you have—It'll be safer if I go. And I'd rather have it be me instead of you who gets hurt." _Besides, the town can't lose you, but it can lose me._ But he held the sour thought in. Cecile didn't respond. "Please." He begged again. "It'll turn out fine, I promise."

"Wait until tomorrow?" She inquired softly.

Suzaku shook his head. "I don't think it can wait. And neither do you."

"Then…you're a persistent boy sometimes, Suzaku-kun." She sighed and rose from her chair. "At least let me get the horse ready for you."

Suzaku gave her a half-smile. "Fair enough."

Cecile appeared satisfied enough with that and began to glide away from the kitchen, only to stop at the exit. She didn't face him, but spoke clearly.

"When will you be ready?"

"An hour." He replied. "I shouldn't need anymore than that."

"You won't exceed the amount time you're planning for, right?"

"Of course not." He joined her by the kitchen entrance, and placed what he hoped was a reassuring hand on her shoulder. When she turned her face to him, her expression gave away how simply unconvinced she was, and he could not deny that fact, no matter how hard he tried.

And that expression didn't leave, even as her figure by the house grew smaller and smaller on the horizon.

* * *

It wasn't until he was actually on the road that it dawned upon Suzaku (and he truly wondered why it hadn't come to him any earlier) that he'd be riding through a forest _at night_. The trip had started out fine, he made it to the woodlands with no trouble, even passing by several other travelers on the way there, but now, he could hardly even see his own hands.

He kept picturing Cecile's face as she handed him the last of his bags. A tight-lipped smile and eyes with an expression he couldn't quite place, something not along the lines of a grim preparation for the worst, but that she was already accepting—and bearing, the truth that the worst existed. Part of him felt right away that her words— _"Hurry back."" I'll see you soon."_—Were merely her going through the motions, and that in truth, she expected none of it. She was already grieving for a tragedy that hadn't even begun.

It was this, and Gino's words that suddenly led him to question his own feelings on what was awaiting him, and the solitude imposed by the blackness around him was only allowing his doubts to grow. He had been fully expecting to be back by the end of the week, at the latest, yet now a voice sang at the back of his head, that he was wrong, that something awful had transpired, or would be very soon.

With an exasperated sigh, he strained his eyes far into the night once again before giving up all together. Regardless of what lie ahead, he hadn't the faintest idea where he was going now and riding blindly was only making it worse: if there were ever a time to quit for the night, it would be now. A sharp jerk on the reins brought his horse to a halt, and he slowly, very slowly, made the move to dismount. But the chance passed him by. A loud crack echoed from somewhere close, but the darkness had disoriented him to the point where it was made impossible to tell the direction. It didn't matter. The horse was instantly shaken by the sharp noise, and bolted into the forest, Suzaku still on its back.

"H—hey!" He crouched over tightly in an attempt to protect himself from the unseen branches rushing towards him. Twigs and bushes whipped past his ears and caught onto his shirt as they moved what seemed to be faster and faster and faster, and all in complete darkness.

It was quite possibly the most frightening thing that had ever happened to him. Even looking back later, Suzaku still shuddered every time he thought of those few minutes where he rushed between invisible trees with God-knows-what coming straight at him.

The entire time, the only thing he could possibly think was that he needed to get off, and _fast. _His wish was quickly granted, though not in quite the way he was hoping for.

He was unsure of what exactly had occurred to take him off his unwanted ride, but there was a sharp turn, a jolt, then a mouthful of dirt. And it was over. He lay there on the ground for what felt like several minutes, not daring to move as a throbbing pain engulfed him, coursing along what seemed to be every square inch of his left side. His thoughts, still jumbled and chaotic pleaded for nothing to be broken, and with a groan, he forced himself up, if only to spit the taste of soil from his mouth.

Hesitantly, he waved his limbs about to ensure they were still working; much to his relief, they were. _I suppose that's a good start… _It didn't take long for him to realize that he was covered in cuts and bruises and dreadfully sore, but nothing appeared broken, and for that, he couldn't be more thankful.

It was only then, when the pain and shock had subsided enough for him to think, that he realized Cecile had been right. He was stranded. Alone and without transport in the one place he had been told to avoid for years on end, with not a clue of how far in he was, and all in the pitch-black darkness of the midnight hours.

Before he had come to the village, before he was taken in by a cook and the oddity of an inventor who lived with her, he remembered being told by someone with a stern face that he could not remember, that in a desperate situation, panic would only lead to death. Though the features of the statement's author had faded away, he could at least say that those words had influenced his reaction to such circumstances. Only twice before did he have to take heed to those words, and both times, he managed to listen, and to succeed.

However, this time, panic threatened him, if only for the briefest, fraction of a second. He battled it down as vigorously as he could, gazing at his palm with what might have seemed like a blank stare if anyone were to have seen it.

With perfect timing, it all came together. He could see his hand, if only very faintly, but that alone was like a beacon of light after hours of sightlessness. A renewed burst of hope flowed through him, and he stumbled to his feet, all but whirling around to see where he had landed.

He stumbled backwards the instant he saw it, nearly falling right back down to the place where he had been sitting. His vision had returned courteously of a clearing, quite large in size and more likely than not at least partially manmade due to the massive expanse of a castle that resided in it, its gates but meters away from where he stood. The moonlight only enhanced the magical, wondrous quality that it seemed to hold, despite the stone gray walls and sharp iron gates. He figured that it might have just been the simple fact that it was a _castle, _and not only that, but a supposedly _unreachable _castle,that made him feel in such a way, but even then, it did not diminish anything from it.

The shock slowly began to transition into an idea. The castle showed few signs of wear or damage—meaning that someone (_or _something, he thought vaguely) was at the very least taking care of the place, and help could very well be a short walk away. The supposed resident could perhaps at the least point him the right direction for him to head come morning. Beyond that, he might find shelter, assistance, maybe a map…

He took the first few steps towards it with his eyes fixed on the towers rather than his feet, then stopped abruptly, the full meaning of what he was about to do setting in. In a blind need to find some sort of help, he had completely forgotten just what castle this was. No one was known to have ever been as close to it as he was now, and there was nothing but dark rumors surrounding it. Maybe there was a chance of finding some support, but the more he thought about it, the less likely it seemed that he'd find what he was searching for in a castle owned by someone who rarely, or possibly even never, left it. Horrors of all kinds could be in there, and he was well aware that he might be walking right into them.

And in a moment of bravery, desperation, stupidity, or some combination of the three, that's exactly what he did.

* * *

All good...? Next chapter we'll meet out "beast" and our crazy cast of object-servants. (This is so much fun, I can't even begin to explain!)

On some silly side notes, I made lentil soup for dinner while I wrote the part mentioning it. It was quite delicious and it did_ not _include blueberries as an ingredient. (Part of me wants to try adding them... just to be ridiculous...XD)

Reviews are always wonderful~


	2. Chapter 2

I think... this might be the fastest that I have ever updated a fic! *Confetti* Plenty of inspiration/motivation helps a lot. One source (among a few others) was that after many delays of a movie party, I _finally_ got around to re-watching it and I got plenty of ideas for future chapters/tiny unimportant details. (I must be the first person to be writing down notes (well, ideas) while watching Beauty and the Beast. XD This chapter might have been even more fun to write than the first... *couchLelouchcoughcough*

Warnings... nothing too different from Chapter 1. A little darker for the most part though.

And I don't own Code Geass, or Beauty and the Beast. Like usual.

I hope this is as much fun for you all to read as it is for me to write! Enjoy!

* * *

Habitual walks had always allowed Euphemia to be (at least to some extent) on top of all the important happenings in and around the village. Of course, she went some places more often than others (down by a certain inventor's house was always a favorite) but she tried her hardest to visit everyone at least once during the week. That was one of her favorite things about life in such a tiny little town—she could do something like this with ease.

And it was on one of these walks, on a late summer afternoon that she, like usual, headed towards that certain inventor's abode, in hopes of catching a word with a certain other member of the household. As she drew near, the shape of a person slowly came into view, a shape that quickly gained features the closer she got, until it was noticeably Cecile standing outside by the storage shed, with her back turned to the road.

"Miss. Croomy!" She called to her with plenty of enthusiasm.

The woman turned around. In her face, she saw an attempt to be cheery and welcoming, like what was typical for her, but it didn't take long for it to give way, to become a kind of concern different from any she'd seen before. Euphemia didn't hesitate to hurry in through the gate. It only got worse after that.

Another perk to the town's small size was how quickly information traveled. If something needed to be heard, you could always bet that it wouldn't take more than a day for it to circulate through the village. But this time, it didn't matter to her, as she heard it from the source. And it was far from something she wanted to hear.

"He's—he's… gone? To the… to there?" She stammered desperately and Cecile nodded a confirmation.

News from around the village usually delighted her—there were all sorts of tales and stories to be heard, and she had always been ready to greet it with sparkling eyes and an open ear. After that, she couldn't help (no matter how hard she tried) to be a little more cautious, a little more restrained, whenever she greeted someone.

* * *

Of all the crazy things he had done, this just might have been the craziest.

He didn't want to think about it like that right now, but at least for as threatening as the gate appeared, with its rows of pointed iron bars, it proved to be no challenge. It was unlocked, and beyond that, rather easy to push open. Suzaku supposed that it should not have been so surprising, saying that if anyone even lived there, they probably did not have to worry much about intruders of any kind.

He swallowed. For a number of reasons, he didn't want to think of himself as that—an 'intruder.'

The walk from there was across a wide flat stone surface that stretched before him as a grand bridge to gray double doors many meters ahead of him. Suzaku figured that the gate was a good sign—if it was so easy to pass, then why shouldn't the doors be as well? His guess wasn't wrong, and after a decent shove, they slowly skidded inwards along the floor and the castle accepted him into its depths.

So far, so good. Either this wasn't as crazy as he originally thought, or it was crazi_er _and trying to tell him.

Whichever way, the promising start was encouraging and his confidence (gradually) began to rise. He walked through the doors, his footsteps sending echoes through a noticeably vast hall. It was dark, too dark to see any details properly, but he could make out the vague shapes of a stairway leading up to floors above him and a large chandelier in the center of a high arched ceiling. Even without its full lighted glory, it more than enough to make him stop entirely in the center of the floor to take it all in, to wonder what sort of lifestyle occurred in such an immense and gorgeous home. But he quickly shook his head, reminding himself that he wasn't there for sightseeing. The sheer size of the place could only mean if there was a resident, they'd have to be found first, and after a few good seconds of deliberation, he decided on the first and most obvious thing he could think of—to give a shout or two.

"Hello?" He called out. "Is anyone here? Anyone?" No answer came.

He gave it another shot, slightly louder this time. "Anyone?" Still, nothing.

He took a few more steps, calling periodically as he went and soon, while hardly even realizing it, he found himself continuing further and further into the reaches of the palace. It was certainly interesting, if not utterly absorbing—though the castle's aesthetics were far from being his main concern, the more he saw of his surroundings, the more it occurred to him that someone had to live there. The place was in far too good of a condition, with far too many luxuries to be nothing but some long abandoned ruin, its story long forgotten.

But as much as that gave away, nothing reinforced the feeling more than the strange, almost whisper-like noises that he swore he heard all around him. It was as if countless people were hiding in the shadows and watching his every move. It was unarguable—the castle had life within it—sentient life, and he could hear it. Part of the thought was thrilling, but part of it was also immensely frightful, to think that he may be walking into a situation worse than the one he was trying to leave and before long, his cautious crawl of a walk had elevated to a near-run.

This was not what he had been expecting. Everything he had learned until now had told him that this should be some old decrepit place that no one would ever dare set a foot in. Now here he was, wandering down pristine halls after voluntarily walking on in, and he was starting to regret it.

"Hello? Is there anyone? Please, if there is… answer me?" His calls were beginning to become devices for his own comfort rather than attempts to find someone. It occurred to him that maybe he should just stop searching and wait until morning, but he swiftly rejected that thought upon further consideration. He wasn't even sure how easily he could find his way out by now; even a good sense of direction seemed completely useless in here after he dashed up what felt like the fifth staircase he had encountered, and sharply turned yet another corner.

"Please?" He tried again, more desperately this time. "I'm just looking for some—ah, ahhh!" A soft glow illuminated the floor around his feet and he came to an immediate halt, so hasty and abrupt that he almost fell forward in surprise.

This was unbelievable, and there was no other way of describing it. He took a few steps back and tried blinking several times, but nothing changed. It was still there. He must have hit his head when he fell from the horse (his side still burned with every step) and scrambled _something _up in there,because this was ridiculous, no it was _impossible_. His eyes had to be playing tricks on him. He unwittingly shook his head slowly back and forth in growing disbelief. There was a candlestick. On the floor, sitting, well, _standing_, he supposed, in front of him, looking up at him, _blinking. _With _eyes_. Moving, living, real, _eyes_.

"You're…you're…no way…" He desperately tried to form a rational sentence, but he had no capacity to make one.

"This is a bad introduction, isn't it?" Suzaku stared blankly back at it. "But you're going to have to trust me here, come on!" Now, Suzaku was sure he had lost it, because he was fairly sure that the candlestick had not only _talked_ to him, but that it was _moving_ as well.

"Wait, wait…" He leaned against the wall. "Did you just—I mean, are you-? I'm sorry, but… am I okay?" He knew that asking the very thing he couldn't believe was probably not the best course of action, but he couldn't imagine anything else to do.

"I said that you'd just have to trust me! Now hurry, 'cause I think you I know who you're looking for, and it's not looking good for him-"

"Lloyd? Lloyd is here!" He pushed himself away from the wall. All of a sudden, the situation was completely serious, talking objects aside.

"Rivalz!" Another voice boomed above Suzaku to his right. "You're frightening him!" Suzaku froze, seriously wondering if it was worth it to look up and see who owned the voice. With a grimace and one eye shut, he slowly glanced up, and was somehow unsurprised to now see a _clock_ talking to him. It was mostly orange, and despite its relatively small size, seemed to hold a great deal of pride and confidence—He might have been quite a presence, had he not been… a clock.

"I'm sorry for my friend, good sir. But this is certainly not your imagination, and he's speaking the truth. I'm afraid you'll just have to trust us and hurry, the master is not happy, and that can not bode well for that man. Head straight down the hall, and through the very last door on the right! It will lead up to a tower, and you'll find him there!"

Suzaku's gaze lingered on the new item hesitantly. Everything was coming at him at once, and far too quickly at that, but it still began to dawn on him that if this really was happening, and Lloyd really was in trouble, he couldn't afford to stand around and wonder if he was still all together. (Though he was still sure that it was quite possible he wasn't.)

"R-right." He managed to nod.

"Then go! And if you are able to—don't mention this to the master!"

Suzaku had already cast off his doubt by the time the clock had spoken again, and had bolted down the hallway, leaving the talking objects far behind. Door after door flew by, giving the corridor an almost endless feel, but unlike those few minutes out in the forest, he refused to allow panic to take him—not if a life, and the life of a family member at that, was possibly at stake.

But the end finally came, and with it, another flight of steps to climb. He almost sighed at how the world seemed to hate him that day, but continued up the spiral staircase to a second door, this one far less elaborate than the first. With a deep breath, he twisted the doorknob and pushed his way into the room beyond it, senses flared in an alert preparation for whatever awaited him there.

The clock and the candlestick hadn't been lying—Lloyd was there. He leaned against the wall under a single stretch of light extending from a row of candles handing above small barred window, with an expression that could almost be called one of boredom, if the situation had been different.

"Lloyd!"

"Suzaku?" He took a brief look over at him. "Cecile send you?"

"What happened? Why are you here, what's going on!" He swallowed back the alarm growing in his voice. He couldn't afford it; he couldn't afford it—those words were looping in his head.

"It was a lie! A sham, all right? Now stop yelling." Suzaku's shoulders slackened as he realized what that meant. Accepting the offer had never had been a good idea, and it never would be—because the offer simply did not exist.

"…Then what happened?"

Lloyd's mood turned sour at once with the mention of whatever had occurred. "I was heading towards the mansion and blacked out— I'm sure that was _his _doing," He scowled. "And found myself here—" He waved his arm around eccentrically. "—At this castle. The other rooms are pretty nice you know? This is just the prisoner's tower."

"Prisoner's?" Suzaku's eyes widened. "Why here? Is someone after you? Come on, we need to get out of here first…" The door creaked open and his heart leapt up in his throat. Then nothing. There was no sign of movement, and for a moment, he thought the coast was clear, that the door was just old, and had slipped open on its own. Then—

"Unlikely."

The voice was low-pitched, but far from rough in quality, it was a melodious sort of deep voice, smooth and refined, far from what he had expected.

"…What?" Suzaku croaked back quietly. All the irrational fears of monsters living in castles suddenly seemed so real, so vivid.

"It's unlikely—that he'll be leaving. Quite impossible, actually."

It was too dark by the doorway to see anything but a tall dark shape coming up the last few steps and into the circular tower. It shut the door gently, but the small thud of its closure somehow felt much more threatening than any loud bang of slamming doors could be.

Suzaku found the confidence to raise his voice. (Because monsters didn't exist, they didn't exist…) "At least explain why you took Lloyd, and what you're planning now."

The shape chuckled at him. "Courageous. And what good might that do?"

"I just want to know this first. We can work out what happens next after that." The panicked feeling was rising in him once again, and in a split second he made a decision that's absurdity only became clear to him after it had come out.

"Step into the light. I want to see… who I'm talking to." He shut his mouth quickly; hoping nothing else so silly would come out.

The shape didn't respond in words, but after a moment he could hear it walking slowly towards the strip of candlelight on the floor. He reflexively tensed up, expecting all the worst, expecting countless villagers to have proved him wrong…

There was not a better word in existence to describe him than absolutely gorgeous. He was around the same age as Suzaku, and had the sort of face, the sort of appearance that the most elegant, beautiful woman might have—Raven black hair, barely touching his shoulders, the slimmest figure he'd ever seen, and long, skinny limbs to match. He was clothed in all black, save for a few gold designs on his long coat and a white cravat, giving him a dark appearance, especially with the contrast of his pale skin. A pair of violet-colored eyes stared back at him coldly and surely, devoid of uncertainty or forgiveness. (But those eyes were beautiful too. If he was not wearing such an expression, he was sure that some kindness might have existed there too.) All together he stood with an effortless grace and sophistication, a sort that couldn't be taught, a sort that commanded attention and respect from those around him.

"Oh." Suzaku let out softly to himself in relief and some embarrassment. He wasn't sure if this comforted him, or made him feel _really_ foolish.

"You want to know?" The beautiful man's voice snapped him out of his study. "Very well—you can hear." He turned to Lloyd and briskly walked towards him, grabbing him violently by the collar of his shirt.

"Hey—hey! I told you that I couldn't do anything! Whatever ails her is beyond me!" Lloyd yelled near hysterically, palms up to stress his inability to do whatever had been asked of him.

Suzaku instantly prepared to retaliate. "Don't-" He reached out, but froze when their eyes made contact. Something about them made him want to look away, and reminded him of who was in control.

That was underlined when he swore that his eye—the left one, turned red, and a section of the wall around the window subsequently crumbled away, the broken shards of stone creating a loud series of clatters as they hit the floor. Then dead silence. Suzaku stepped away from the ruins as the dust settled around them. That was no coincidence, nor could it have been normal. He looked back to the man anxiously as if he'd offer some explanation, but to his surprise, he too had gained a look of actual, genuine _horror._ He honestly and perceptibly had been hardly more prepared for that to happen than Suzaku or Lloyd were, and it was only serving to make him angrier. He tightened his grip on the inventors collar and lifted him an inch higher.

"…Lloyd Asplund—mildly insane, they say, but a brilliant inventor nonetheless." Lloyd was squirming around now, but the young man's anger seemed to have given him a burst of strength to hold on. "I've run into some troubles, so who better to mend them? I sought him out, summoned him under the guise of a wealthy businessman, and brought him here. Regrettably, in the end he was of no use _at all_!" He promptly dropped the inventor to the floor, narrowly missing the new pile of sharp rock and dust. "…And I've lost my patience with him. I've had enough of liars who say they can fix everything, fix her…" Whoever she was, her mention made for the first falter Suzaku saw or heard in the man. His anger shot back to full force seconds later, its culmination seemingly drawing near. "…Only to break their word and fail miserably. In fact, they more often than not have made things worse." Suzaku frantically searched the floor for anything that could be used as a weapon, cursing quietly when he found it barren. "So, it's time to dispose of the most recent line of failures—he was painfully easy to trick into coming—a challenge would have been nice." His hand reached to a small scabbard hanging loosely from the side of his belt. "Now-"

"Wait, _wait_!" Suzaku blindly dashed forward and grabbed the young man by the wrist. He had nothing planned ahead, but there was one solution that hung in his mind. All he wanted now was for no one to die, not there, and especially not because of any hesitation on his part. So he did what came naturally to him—he acted in the moment. "If… I stay as your prisoner, will you let him go?"

"Suzaku, what the hell are you doing?" Lloyd pushed himself up from the ground. "Cecile will kill me if you-"

"Lloyd, stop." He sighed. There was definitely no need to hide it any longer. "The town needs you. They can afford to lose me." It was something that he had longed to voice for many a year—not under such circumstances, but he nevertheless, there was an undeniable satisfaction he felt from finally speaking the thought that had consumed him for so long.

Lloyd could only stare back at him from behind cracked glasses. They must have broken when he was dropped from the young man's grip.

"You're an odd one…" He mumbled to himself at last, and crossed his arms, turning away from the other two.

The young man looked at Suzaku questioningly, not bothering to struggle in his grip. He could tell he was significantly stronger than the apparent master of the castle, no matter how intimidating he was.

"Why?" He finally said. "Give me a good reason, and I may consider it." His voice was calmer than it had been, but an edge still remained.

Suzaku struggled to think of some sort of benefit, some sort of assistance he could offer up. "I… I don't know. I…" He trailed off as the man turned away, his hand by his eye—the left one, and a distant expression began to come over his face. It was hard to read, that was certain, but it gave the impression that he was recalling something important, some detail he had easily overlooked before.

"Fine." He said suddenly. "Forget it, there's nothing you can do for me. I'll accept your offer regardless—you'll be prisoner of this castle indefinitely, and that damned fool may go free."

Suzaku watched Lloyd's eyes grow as a sense of liberation surely sank in, and he slowly, hesitantly, released the young man's wrist.

"You're not going to kill me?"

"No. Now get out of my sight. Servants will provide you with a horse and escort you out." He hauled the inventor to his feet and pulled him across the room. Lloyd twisted around as he was towed and shouted frantically back to Suzaku.

"What do you expect me to tell Cecile about this-!"

Suzaku smiled calmly. "Just tell her what happened, okay?"

"That's-" Lloyd was shoved out before he could finish, and the door slammed shut behind him. The inventor was gone.

It was only then that it struck Suzaku just what he had done. He stumbled back until his palms came to the wall, and slid down to the stone floor helpless and wide-eyed. He leaned back against the wall in a bleak attempt to steady himself as everything that had taken place over the last few minutes suddenly returned to him, and hard. The talking objects, the eye and the crumbling wall, the truth about the request, the castle, the fact he had just _given away_ his entire life, his entire _future_. Everything was spiraling out of his control, and all much too quickly for him to handle.

And soon after, it came to his awareness that Cecile had been right—then that was the only thing he could think of.

"Come with me." The man's voice interrupted. He had seemingly been no less lost in thought than Suzaku had been. "I said come on. Or would you prefer to stay here?" He didn't wait for a reply and left the glow of the candlelight to head for the door.

"N-no." The request surprised him a bit—he had figured that 'prisoner' meant a life in this tower or something of the like. He pulled himself up using the wide hole in the wall to assist him. He tried not to look at it—that only made him think of how it had gotten there. With the prospect of getting away from the room as motivation to move, he left the support and followed the man down from the tower, staying several steps behind the whole time. Between that distance and the understandably dark, somewhat hostile feelings that hung over both of them, it was an awkward stretch of time, so much that Suzaku found it almost necessary to distract himself with inspecting all the details he could make out in his new home. This examination only made the stares of various objectsevident to him, and he began to realize that _all_ of the servants were like that—by mechanics (he couldn't imagine how advanced that would have to be) or by some _magic_, (suddenly, that seemed a very probably explanation) he hadn't a clue. But then again, he hadn't a clue of anything that was going on in the castle.

"Suzaku… then?" That silky voice cut into his thoughts once more.

"…Suzaku Kururugi." He managed to get out. "Lloyd isn't my real father."

"You're from this country then?" His pace slowed the slightest bit—Suzaku took a guess that it might be some small sign that he was indeed paying attention.

"Yeah." He hesitated to ask the obvious follow-up, but ended up saying it even quicker than he anticipated. "And… your—your name?"

"…Lelouch."

"Just…?" Suzaku was sure that he'd regret continuing with the question, but he answered. Sternly, quietly, but he did.

"Lelouch Lamperouge."

He had stopped now at a tall pair of white doors that he carefully shoved open. Suzaku came forward to take a look inside, but found himself already walking in. If the invitation to leave the prisoner's tower had surprised him, this surprised him even more. It was a spotless, beautiful room of rich red carpet, tall windows and bookshelves, with a massive dresser and bed to top it all off. There was even a glass door on the far side of the room, leading to a small elaborately decorated balcony in the open air.

"Are you…?" He caught himself before he could ask the castle's master if he had made a mistake. It would be terrible logic to open the door for argument, however much a part of him didn't feel like he deserved such a nice place to stay.  
So he settled for a different question. "Why? I mean… why such a nice... room?" God, he couldn't make sentences tonight. His stability was far too scattered, his head far too confused.

Lelouch's eyes were fixed steadily on him, so unwavering and intense that it was enough to unnerve him still more than he already was. "You live here now, do you not?" Suzaku flinched. "You might as well reside in something nicer than a cell." His voice was too impassive for the words to be comforting in the least, and it didn't help when he turned away sharply and began to shut the door. "Servants will tend to you in the morning, you will stay here until then. And before you ask, yes, it's not your imagination. That's the way they are." He then shut—slammed; the door behind him, and Suzaku was yet again alone.

In seconds, he was lying flat on the sizeable bed, arms stretched out wide and eyes fixed on the ceiling. This morning, he had made his breakfast, he had gone at the town market, he had talked to Cecile (restlessly, and about the very thing that had gotten him into this, but a conversation nonetheless), and he had worried about what to tell Euphemia next. And now what? He had talked to household objects (that talked to him), he watched a wall explode with a flash of light in someone's eye, worried about if Lloyd was going to be killed as he stood by helpless, and made himself prisoner of a castle for what could very easily be forever. In less than an hour, his entire perception of the world had been rattled, and then flipped upside down completely.

Suzaku squeezed his eyes shut. He had more than enough questions of the future, but as they flooded him incessantly, he decided that for now, at least for tonight, it might just be easier to take the world as it came.

So he decided just to lay there with his eyes closed shut for a while, just long enough so that he might better comprehend what he had gotten himself into.

* * *

Milly liked to think of herself as the leader for the servants in the castle.

Yes, _technically_, by order of status, she wasn't, but as she usually got the information first and could leave just about anyone she pleased tongue-tied on a moments notice, it really was only a technicality. Besides, for those very reasons, she had no real competition or objections to deal with—she just followed the gossip (or spread some, if she felt like it) and did her job. It just so happened that when those two things mixed with her personality, she took control.

"He's keeping that boy as a prisoner?" The tea nearly shot right out of her spout at the news.

Things had been getting dull. It seemed that the master was running out of people to turn to and consequently the number of visitors, or rather, temporary captives, had dropped off significantly, and so had Lord Lelouch's peace of mind.

It was hard. Not only because they were the only ones he could direct his rage at, or that they too were affected by the curse, but also because it was a pitiful situation to watch unfold upon the young man, however bitter and temperamental he had become. So when he announced in one of his brief messages to the prominent members of his throngs of servants that he had found another possible option, excitement flared, and Milly immediately put herself in charge of fanning the flames and keeping it going.

Then, failure. Disappointment for them, and then fear when their master's anger exploded to a level it had only reached once before—he was certainly about to kill the inventor.

After that, the entire thing took an unprecedented turn—one that they had never dealt with before. An unknown boy found his way _in _(and that in itself should have been impossible), and as it turned out, he was _looking_ for the very man about to be placed to an untimely death. Something had to be done, and with less than a minute of thought, she directed her companions to get the boy to the inventor, and fast.

What happened after that—well, that was out of her control.

But _this_ was the last thing she had expected.

"What'd he say?" She hopped from the table to the floor. The impact of that leap used to shake her up, but she was accustomed to it now: she was nimble. Or as nimble as a round little teapot could be. "He has to have some reasoning, some logic to this…"

"He didn't say anything." Rivalz replied, sounding irritated, even a bit panicky. "He just sort of… I don't know, brooded?"

Milly paused. Lord Lelouch was a clever one. He had always been the one person that she had to think about seriously, the one she could never _quite_ decipher. Of course, she could leave even him speechless, given the right topic (relationships, sentiments, those sort of things) and a stroke of luck, but he was tricky in most other areas. Rivalz stared expectantly at her, waiting for an answer to come.

"Is he…?" A perceptive smile slid over the surface of her face. "That's it." Her smile softened. "I think I get it. Poor thing. He really is trying…" She readied herself, then hopped up to a chair, using it as a stepping stone to reach the table, and from there, the counter. "And the boy made this offer?"

"Yeah," The candlestick confirmed. "I couldn't believe it."

"Oh my. This might be perfect." She was growing more pleased and pleased by the second.

"What?" Rivalz wasn't getting it. "I know we'll have someone else to serve to now, but-"

"Not that!" She called back, sorting through various types of tealeaves. "This boy is a good one, isn't he?" Rivalz nodded. "If he's sweet and compassionate—who better to teach Lord Lelouch how to be too…?" She bobbed forward, encouraging Rivalz to complete the thought.

Fortunately, he was catching on by now. "And if he learns to be kind again… we'll go back to normal?"

"Exactly!" She beamed. "We'll be human, Lord Lelouch won't be angry or cursed…" She settled down to a more gentle eagerness on that note. "…Lady Nunnally will be better too."

Rivalz was fully on board by now. "So we just need to get them to spend time together."

"Precisely. And make the boy feel welcomed too." Having selected a suitable flavor, she carefully jumped back down to the floor.

"Milly, I know it's part of the plan…" He reached an arm out after her as she skipped towards the door. "But the master said specifically not to tend to him until-"

"Relax!" She chimed. "He's not going to find out. Trust me here, Rivalz. You've been talking to that silly clock too much," She continued out the door. "Now come along. Grab Kallen and Jeremiah while you're at it."

Rivalz frantically whipped around to the door. "Kallen? You know she's going to have a fit when-"

"Just do it, okay~?"

Rivalz stopped objecting and went right to fetching them like he was told.

* * *

Suzaku wasn't sure of how long he laid there for. It could have been minutes, hours, even days for all he knew, for all he _cared. _He had removed all awareness of his surroundings for the time being and decided to simply exist until his thoughts settled out.

And he wasn't sure of how long he might have stayed like that, perhaps until morning, maybe longer, had a knock not sounded at the door. Suddenly, he was sitting up and about to answer it, back in the world of the conscious.

The knock banged on at regular intervals, but he didn't move from the bed quite yet. For a moment, he thought it could be Lelouch again, but he realized not only how unreasonable that would be, and furthermore, that the sound was coming from the lower part of the door.

"…Come in?" He at last offered hesitantly.

"Oh good!" A cheery voice responded and the door creaked open slightly. Suzaku honestly could not be surprised anymore when he saw a teapot, accompanied by the clock and candlestick from earlier, hop into his room.

"When you didn't answer right away I thought you might have decided to…" The teapot—whose voice was that of a young woman's, trailed off. "Well, not the point, hm~? Stop giving us that face! We're here to welcome you! And don't be shocked by our appearances either—we weren't always like this, you know? Cursed one night, five years ago. Sounds crazy, but it's the truth, and a long story at that. But, once again, not the point!"

"…No, no, it's fine, it doesn't bother me!" Suzaku answered hurriedly. A curse. So that explained one thing, at least to some extent. (He didn't yet dare to ask any farther.) And it came at the right time too—just about any explanation would seem reasonable to him now. "Well, not anymore…" He admitted, only hoping that didn't sound too rude. Suzaku slid quietly from the bed to a kneeling position by the small group.

"My name's Milly, Milly Ashford," The teapot had smiling blue eyes and twin golden handles on either side that curled up elegantly at the ends. "Yours?"

"Suzaku Kururugi." He liked her already—she seemed well intentioned, and certainly cheerful—it might be good to have that sort of presence around.

"You can come to me about anything, okay?" She bounded over to the two others accompanying her. "As for the others: the candlestick is Rivalz-"

"How do you do?" He bowed with a lasting grin, the candles at the ends of his arms burning brightly.

"And this is Jeremiah-" She pointed her spout towards the clock.

He nodded sharply in response. "It's a pleasure. Our first meeting was not a proper one, but saving that man took priority. And, if I may remind you once again, do not mention to Lord Lelouch that we directed you the tower."

"Really, he just doesn't want the master to know that he disobeyed his orders!" Rivalz jumped in with a loud whisper aimed at Suzaku.

Jeremiah shot him a glare. "We are his servants, we _serve_ him and his wishes. That was a unique situation."

Milly's smile broadened further as their exchange deteriorated into all-out bickering. "Shirley, you come on in too!" It silenced the clock and candlestick and she jumped in the air as some sort of signal. Against Suzaku's expectations, the dresser sprang into life, startling him into falling over from where he kneeled. It had been silent and motionless for as long as he had been in the room—it was no surprise that its sudden life startled him so much.

"Hello!" She quickly realized that she had surprised him, and her welcome became an apology. "I'm sorry! I probably scared you just now… I was afraid of bothering you beforehand." Her voice was friendly and warm, with an eager sort of tone to it. "You didn't seem like you were ready for anyone else to talk to you, let alone…" She laughed. "…A talking dresser!"

"No, that's fine! ...I just wasn't expecting that..." He found himself starting to chuckle too, and that seemed to comfort the dresser plenty.

"And…" Milly frowned as she looked out the cracked-open door. "Well, I'll get her in here some time or another. But, how do you like it here? Are you doing all right? I'm sorry about the master, I know he's been a tad… discourteous to you."

"Oh." In all truth, Suzaku had been trying to avoid thinking about his infuriated captor. After what had almost occurred in the tower, he found himself unable to feel any pity, any liking at all towards the beautiful young man. The thought that he'd now be living with him—however large the castle may be, was admittedly making him uncomfortable.

"Not liking him then? Milly asked quietly upon the lasting silence. Suzaku settled on just sighing and giving a shrug. Suddenly, he was feeling worn and tired yet again, and had no desire to talk about him or his own future. "I'd give you some tea now, but it seems I don't have a teacup to do that." The teapot looked around unsuccessfully.

"I know," The candlestick—Rivalz, came up close to him. "How about you come downstairs to some dinner? We'll prepare something nice and warm for you! We have the finest chefs around, so you won't be disappointed—and guests are always appreciated by us servants, even if not by the master!" Suzaku looked to each servant unsurely. He had no idea if he was even up to it, and he was positive that Lelouch had certainly meant it when he told him to stay put for the night.

"No one's going to hurt you dear, I promise." Milly assured, wholeheartedly agreeing with the candlestick. "It'll be good for you—I know what happened can only be far from pleasant, but you need to relax, calm down a touch." She had a point there.

"…Well, I suppose it couldn't hurt." He said at last. The castle was too large for him to be aware of all of its happenings. And even if he did find out, it didn't seem like a grand offense. (At least, _he _didn't think so.)

"There we go!" Milly jumped, and then began to head for the door with the others. "Shirley will direct you to the kitchen whenever you're ready. It won't take long to prepare, so don't worry about the timing! We'll see you then!" Jeremiah was the last to leave, shutting the door for the rest of the group.

However, this time Suzaku wasn't left alone, and Shirley scooted in a bit closer. She had large green eyes, a different shape than his own, and a red-orange wooden frame that nearly gave the illusion of long hair, with an almost bow-like carving at the top. The more he looked, the more he could see a human girl behind it all. In fact, the more he had looked at all of them, the more he could imagine their original form.

"Suzaku?"

Suzaku tilted back against the side of the bed, and nodded to her. "Go ahead."

"It sounds silly to say this now, but you um, might want to clean up and change."

"Huh? Oh," After a quick glance over, he could only imagine what a sight he must be. He sprang up, and a look in the mirror confirmed it— he couldn't help but cringe at the mess staring back at him. For starters, he was covered in dirt and scratches, with a decently size cut that had been drying under his cheek. His white shirt and pants were wrinkled, dirty, and torn in several places on the sleeves and edges, and his entire left side was dotted with bruises, some being particularly large and dark. It didn't help either that his hair was messier than usual, or that his thin cravat hung at a skewed angle. And here he had been expecting Lelouch to be a beast. _He_ looked closer to one in his current state.

"There's a bathroom over there." Shirley's voice called over helpfully.

"Thank you." He took the clothes she had laid out for him—a nice white shirt, dark pants, and a vest and cravat similar to the one had been wearing.

"And—" She paused. "You know, the master—Lord Lelouch… he's really not so bad once you get to know him." Suzaku stopped halfway to the door. "He has his reasons. He's been through a lot, and it's never let up for him. And I can't say you came on the best day either… But give him a chance, okay? I don't want to tell you anything that he's not ready for you to know, but if—" She shook back and forth, like she was shaking her head. "—When he opens up, I think you'll understand."

Suzaku stared blankly at the neatly folded clothes resting in his hands. With the thought of the unassailable and bitter Lelouch ready to kill Lloyd heavy on his mind, few things seemed so impossible to him in that moment.

* * *

Lelouch had no idea what had gotten into him.

He had fully intended to kill that useless inventor; it had been the sole focus of his thoughts during that moment in the tower. He had failed him, like so many others, but his flippant attitude, his taunting words, and Nunnally's exceptionally bad condition had pushed him over the edge. He knew that he would have regretted killing him in the end, had he actually done it, but the fact that he had willingly turned away from an idea that possessed him so—it was unusual.

Maybe it was the remembrance of the first time— the first time he killed a man.

Or maybe it was something about that stupid boy.

Or perhaps it was that witch's words from five years ago.

Perhaps all three of those had come to haunt him.

It didn't matter. He stopped. He hesitated, and he made a decision. Now here he was, stuck with a prisoner he never intended to have.

He rested his elbows on the rail of the balcony, staring down at the glistening pond some many meters below. He could talk to Nunnally… he'd have to, saying she'd have to learn of the new resident. But her condition was so fragile asof late that not a single person could predict if she'd be well enough to engage in an extended conversation.

It was a delicate balance. It always had been, and with every passing year, the scale became more and more sensitive, till the moment it might tip over completely. He couldn't bear to think of that day—he'd find the solution before that happened, he would simply not allow her dwindling time to run out.

On that thought, he would check on her later that night, like he always did. If by some chance she was awake and up to it, he would tell her then. If not, he'd have to wait, like so many other times before.

His arm dropped from its position under his chin and hung over the edge of the balcony limply. He was running out of time—if there even was a way to end the curse and the witch had not simply told him a colossal lie.

_ "Until you can reclaim that kindness that you were born with… you will live a life of solitude, with nothing but sorrow and trials, your cursed subjects' company, and the demon's dreadful eye to haunt your every move."_

He could recall the moment so vividly, yet it remained almost dreamlike. When he awoke, he was certain that's what it had been. Nunnally was asleep and feverish, and he soon learned her eyesight had disappeared once again.

But a mirror was overturned; a rose was on her bed, and she remembered the witch too—it wasn't a dream.

Then he went into town. That confirmed it, in the most painful, unwanted of ways. He never went back.

Six years. Now one was all that remained. Perhaps the time had come, perhaps that was the reason he accepted the boy's pleading offer, for the reason that he might be the one to reopen some part of himself that he had shut away.

Lelouch sighed and closed his eyes. He was sure now, that things truly were becoming desperate, because he was freely admitting it, even if only to himself.

* * *

Though Milly had specifically told him not to worry about timing, Suzaku waited several more minutes after changing clothes and washing up before making the venture downstairs. Out of politeness, or lingering fear, he couldn't be quite sure, but it worked out.

Shirley repeated the directions to him twice—just to make sure he got it. She smiled and told him that the castle could be confusing, so it was a good idea that he had her repeat them. (He felt a little better when she added that it actually was very easy once you got used to it, but knew that might be a while.) Finally, feeling it was a suitable time to go, he left the room with candle in hand and headed for the kitchen.

It took him roughly ten minutes to find his way there, but he had little real trouble and encountered no one other than a few servants, who either greeted him cheerfully, (and went about sweeping the floors with themselves) or stared at him with shocked expressions. Suzaku figured that in such a place, even rumors as big as that of a prisoner could take some time to get around. (Or maybe they had heard, and had simply not believed them until they saw with their own eyes.)

Like many of the others in the castle, the doors to the kitchen were double, with an arched top and elaborate carvings. He pushed them open—slowly, just to make sure he had gotten the right room. A quick glance back revealed Jeremiah rapidly waving him on. (He seemed to be acting as a sort of watch guard for them, so Suzaku thanked him quietly.)

"There you are!" Rivalz wobbled over to him as soon as he entered. "Haha, I knew you'd come around! You're going to love this! Come with me!" Suzaku didn't move, prompting Rivalz to wave him along. "Come on, don't be shy." Hesitantly, he followed candlestick towards yet another pair of doors across the room. It was more or less just what he had expected—spacious and lined with cabinets, appliances, and counters of all kinds.

"May I preset to you: The dining hall." He dipped into a long, overdone bow as several kitchenwares hurried over to push open the doors.

Then, Suzaku understood why the whole thing was such an invitation. A red carpet similar to the one in his own room lined the floor and matched with the wine-colored walls. Three golden chandeliers hung over a long, wooden table draped in an ornate tablecloth and lined with a row of candles and other décor down the white strip in the center. Clearly, marvelous entertaining was intended to take place in here.

"Nice, isn't it?" Rivalz inquired.

"I'll say…" Suzaku was already wandering inside on his own accord. "This is incredible."

"Please, take a seat! The show's about to begin!" He followed Suzaku deeper inside and motioned to a chair at the head of the table.

"I should thank you right now for doing this, I've never experienced anything like it." He worked his way over to the table and sat down shyly in the seat Rivalz had indicated. It was the same sort of feeling he had gotten when he entered his new bedroom. "Are you sure it's okay for a prisoner to have this?"

"More than sure—you're taking the word 'prisoner' too literally," Rivalz leapt up onto the table to stand in front of him. "Milly told you to relax, so listen to her! She always knows best, and remember, you're a welcome visitor for us!"

Suzaku was still half-focused on marveling at the room and its furnishings. "Well it's still amazing…"

"Yeah." Rivalz joined him in scanning the room, like he too still got a rush out of working there. "Too bad we don't get to use it much now." He made a sound somewhere between a snort and a sigh. "Ah, those were the days… servants have to serve, and we've hardly gotten to do much of that over the past few years, you know?" Suzaku wouldn't know for sure, but he nodded anyway. "But hey, that means you're going to get the extra-special treatment tonight!" He winked. "Not that you wouldn't normally get it from us."

"That's right!" Milly chimed in as she entered the dining room. "We're going to treat you well. Let's start with some tea, shall we?" She glared back at some unknown person in hiding. "Come on, you know you want to~"

She was swiftly rejected. "No. Absolutely not! I can't even stand it with Lord Lelouch—No! I can't do this!" Suzaku tried to strain his neck over to see who was speaking, but his effort found no avail.

"Please? You know you have to; I already let you off once. At least come in here, you're making this difficult." Milly had joined Rivalz on the table by now.

The dissenter seemed to give in to this. "…Fine." Slowly, a small white teacup scooted her way in and up to join the other two, blue eyes locked on him warily (angrily, he'd even say) the whole time. When she arrived, Milly happily poured her tea into the cup, who shook grudgingly as it came.

"There. Suzaku, this is Kallen."

"Hello," He smiled, only to pause before saying anything else. "Um, may I…?" He reached for one of the straight reddish handles on the teacups sides, only to find it gone as soon as his fingers reached the spot where it had been.

"No. You may not—you're not getting anywhere near me!" She shouted, jumping back and sending her tea splashing all over the tablecloth.

"Kallen, don't make a scene!" Rivalz protested. "Aren't we trying to get him relaxed?"

"At the expense of my dignity?" She cried. "Find another cup!"

"You're the nicest one." Milly reminded her, to which she growled. "And it's not like you've never done it before."

"But that doesn't mean I like it! One person is certainly more than enough as it is, so I'll say it again: no!" Suzaku could only blink, not quite following what exactly the issue being debated was.

"You don't have to-" He began.

"Just try it this once okay?" Milly cut in. "Else…" She whispered something privately to the teacup, whose jaw dropped slightly, however much he could tell she was trying to contain it.

"…Once. Only this once." Kallen conceded, and guardedly worked her way back towards Suzaku. "…Go ahead." She grumbled.

"…Thank you." He gave her a small smile, which she blatantly ignored with a grumpy expression. He took a handle and raised the cup to take a sip, before:

"Not there!" She squirmed, spilling more of the tea. Suzaku rotated her slightly and tried again. "Or there!" He gave another location a try. "No, no, NO!" Suddenly, it finally hit Suzaku just what her dilemma was, and after a few warning giggles, he nearly broke out into full-on laughter for the first time since he had arrived.

"Oh…I think I get it. Sorry about this then." He choked out between restrained chortles. "I mean, if it helps, I'm not thinking about it like _that_."

That clearly was not of much assistance. "…You have no idea." She complained.

"Come on now, just let him drink." Milly reminded her. Kallen sighed, put on a hard expression, and let him take a sip.

"Not so bad?" Kallen was about to object once again, but silenced herself quickly.

"Ahem. With that matter aside…" Rivalz threw his golden arms out wide. "Ready for this? It's time to present… dinner."

Right on cue, candles lit themselves all around the room, dishes, silverware, platters and napkins flew into action. The doors open wide and in came rows and rows of serving dishes piled high with all sorts of fruits, and meats, baskets of bread, bowls of soups, and all sorts of cuisine he had never before seen. Soufflés and desserts danced by him, settling in to place (a mysterious gray substance joined them too), the tablecloth straightened, and a napkin was flung perfectly into his lap. He almost, _almost, _had to clap as it all played out before him. Rivalz wasn't kidding when he referred to it as a show.

"Well, how do you like it?" Rivalz gestured around at the animation swirling around them. "Wonderful? And you haven't even tried the food yet!" He jumped in close "It's a win-win situation, we get to serve, and you get all of this!"

"It's really something else." He agreed, mustering all of his remaining spirit. "I guess I can't thank you enough for this, I wasn't expecting anything like it."

"Hey, dear?"

Suzaku looked over to see Milly apparently returning from a quick errand out of the room. She wore a small smile and concerned eyes, the kind that saw past façades.

"You're not relaxing." She whispered to him. Suzaku bit his lip. However extravagant it all was, however much he was trying to appreciate it, however much he was trying to calm down a bit further, it seemed he just couldn't hide the fact.

"Here." She motioned for Kallen to come over, and poured her tea into cup. "It's a …different brew. It's perfect for soothing—I think it'll be just what you're looking for. Helped me all the time, back when I was human, that is!"

He looked from her, to the tea. "All right…then." He was willing to try just about anything right now. Cautiously, he lifted Kallen and had a sip. The flavor was a lot stronger than he was used to; it was certainly different from any type that he'd ever had before, but then again, it shouldn't have been much of a shock, as most of the food being laid out before him was unusual or new. After a few seconds of consideration, he decided it was marvelous.

"Oh," He took another sip, longer, faster this time. "This _is_ really good."

"There's plenty of it!" She reassured him. "It grows on you too." (He didn't notice Milly's broadening grin or Kallen's wide eyes fixed on the teapot the entire time.)

The dance of food and plates had calmed down by now—and the sheer amount before him was ridiculous, he hadn't any idea of how to go about it. He ended up simply taking a fork and reaching towards the thing closest to him.

"May I?" He asked. Rivalz laughed, and with a sweeping movement of his arm, he answered.

"Be our guest!"

* * *

Go ahead and count the references to the "Be Our Guest" number! I went a little nuts with it there, but that scene is just too much fun to _not_ go nuts with it. XD Actually, most things with the object!servants are kind of like that. *Goes off humming the song*

I hope I did a good job with this chapter, and I hope it made someone happy. ^_^

Reviews are loved, like always. 3 I feel warm and fuzzy inside when I get them.


	3. Chapter 3

Hello everyone! First... an apology is in order. I actually had this essentially done on Monday of last week. *shame* RL then decided not to let me have a good, solid, uninterrupted stretch of time to read all the way through it (in order to make sure it flows right, check for errors, add delete little things etc. etc.) until now. (Although, some of the things distracting me were actually fun, and good, and _happy, _so yay to those things! Not-yay to the AP US History! *glares at textbook*) So, I am terribly sorry for that, and I hope the it was worth the wait!

Like usual, I don't own Code Geass, the characters, Beauty and the Beast, the original idea, and so on.

Mmmkay! Please enjoy! ^_^

* * *

Suzaku had never remembered waking up to be this _painful. _

Every shred of sense left in his head recommended his body to simply not move, at least not for another few minutes. If he just did that, then maybe the throbbing in his side and head would go away.

It occurred to him after a slight delay, that he had not injured his head when he fell from the horse. Had he not been so uncomfortable, his eyes might have flown open. Instead, they fluttered, hesitantly lifting to see where he was.

It took him a second to realize it was not his bed at home that he lay in. Instead, he was alone in the room that was now being called his own. The blankets were loosely thrown over him (though it seems he had pushed a good deal of them off) and all of the candles were snubbed out. It did unsettled him, but the silence was the worst part—the only thing he could hear was his own breath. (Which had evened out by now, though he had hardly realized it quickening in the first place.) Nothing moved. Nothing made a sound.

And then it hit him: all the things that had happened over what could have only been the last few hours were _real. _This really was a castle, an enchanted castle ruled by some bitter young master and his cast of living objects to function as servants. It was wrong, wrong, _wrong, _all of it. He should have been waking up to find himself in a small bed in a little cottage on a hillside, with the sound of clanking gears and the thoughts of his chores the next day to keep him awake. Instead, he found a vast elaborate room, a bed that felt like it was about to swallow him up and a vaguely empty feeling.

He reached forward, forcing himself to sit up and causing some paper beneath his hand to crinkle with a soft noise made so much sharper by the eerie quiet upon him. He drowsily looked down to where a smashed piece of parchment was bunched underneath his palm. Fisting it, he lifted it to his eyes, squinting at the scribbled letters from a readable distance.

"_Terribly sorry about this, Suzaku. You looked so down, so I figured you needed some sort of help. It really was __supposed__ to help, it's just that…you weren't supposed to drink __that_ _much of the tea and I'm afraid it backfired on you. The headache will go away in a few hours, and you shouldn't be foggy for too long… but you probably won't sleep well tonight. And your stomach may not hold up. But hopefully that's not the case, right? I'll talk to you in the morning, dear, I'll have something nice and warm for breakfast. Promise!_

_ -Milly~"_

With that, Suzaku groaned and flopped back down onto his bed. He was fairly certain, if he had read it correctly, (and he read it twice more, just to be sure) that she had just drugged him. If he was angry, embarrassed, or still just uncomfortable, he couldn't be sure. But any way he put it, he decided that he would have to be far more careful around all of them than he had originally thought; if their apparent leader was so keen on putting things in their troubled guests' drinks on a moments notice.

Perhaps that Lelouch had something going with his distrust. Suzaku shook that thought away. Not the time to be bitter. On the flip side, he had vague recollections of enjoying himself at the dinner itself—and that served as some reward for his current misery.

Slowly, he made his way back to a sit (the more he moved, the more he didn't want to know just how much of whatever it was had been in that tea) giving himself a second's rest to let his vision even out and his spinning head settle, before checking the dresser beside his bed in hope of answers.

Apparently, the object-servants still needed sleep, for Shirley was undeniably out cold. Suzaku shrunk back in guilt as soon as he noticed how she slouched over in that certain way, slowly expanding and shrinking with what could only be called breaths. Unwilling to wake her, and certainly not for a little question that could be easily answered in the morning; he gave up on that plan. Sinking back into the cushy mass of a bed, he shut his eyes, trying to close off all the strangeness and ignore it until the morning.

It took him less than a minute of a churning stomach and wandering mind to realize that it was not going to work.

Once again, he creaked back up, scanning the room for something (just what, he didn't know) to at least partially relieve him of his symptoms. As far as he could see, Milly meant well enough—so it made sense to him that she might have left _something_ to get him though the night.

At last, a glass on a nightstand to the right of the bed caught his eye. Pulling himself over to the other side, he lifted it from its place, revealing another scrap of paper beneath it.

"_Please drink. It'll help. –Milly~"_

He took a sip—cautiously—so as to make sure he wasn't about to put anything _else _strange into his body. But it seemed to be only water. Still, he hesitated, wondering briefly if there might be some tasteless substance in it that would only make him feel worse, but he quickly ignored it and drank the whole thing. Though it could have very well been nothing but his imagination, he did feel somewhat better afterwards. However, as he quickly discovered, it was not enough of an improvement to allow him sleep properly, and heaving a sigh, he dragged himself to the edge of the bed, and slipped out. Not to his surprise, a dizzying wave hit all his senses the second he reached his feet, but after one, two lurches forward, he stabilized.

Even if she had put _something_ in his tea, he'd at least have to thank Milly for what whatever was in that water, for he was fairly certain that without it, he'd still be in the bed.

After lighting a candle (found conveniently on the same nightstand that held the semi-cure for his spinning head) he headed for the doorway, bypassing his shoes along the way—the less noise he made, the better. After creeping past Shirley at the slowest speed he could manage in an attempt not to wake the affable dresser, he finally reached the door, hurriedly cracking it open and sliding out into the hallway without a sound.

The candle's tiny flame cast a soft reddish light over the stone halls, carving out a hazy sphere of visibility for Suzaku to progress within. He didn't linger around for long; letting his feet take him wherever they pleased, wherever they saw fit for easing his heart and mind. At each turn, he lit one of the candles resting inside small coves in the wall to serve as a trail back to his room once the walk had done its job.

He had meant to simply clear his mind for rest, but it quickly occurred to him that it was not the sole reason for this walk. There was an entertaining, curious thought still tickling at the back of his subconscious mind, telling him to explore the place a bit further, to take advantage of the supposedly short stroll he was on. The first explanation he could think of was because it hailed him back to his childhood, the part before he came to what he would now call his hometown. He would play with a cousin, or venture deep into some forest, escaping his chores and diving into a great 'unknown.' Of course, it wasn't such a carefree investigation this time, but the childish, nostalgic feeling of adventure was still there in some tiny form.

Like the shapes of trees or the location of a bird's nest that had stood out to him in the woods, such details of the castle served a similar purpose. The corners and statues for the most part carried a similar theme—a chessboard and its pieces, particularly the king, recognizable by a crown with a cross at its peak. The theme reappeared throughout the castle, from the obvious carvings, to things more subtle, a small design on a door or a checkered pattern caught out of the corner of his eye. It was everywhere.

From the artistic details of palace, he began to wonder about its origins, if it had been built specifically for its master, or if had existed beforehand. Had it been originally owned by some family? Or was it Lelouch's alone? Had its status changed over the years? It could have been altered from its original form, or even completely rebuilt at some time.

Inadvertently or intentionally, the multitudes of staircases had finally led him back to the main hall of where he had first entered the castle. He lifted the candle higher, the curiosity from when he had first entered returning to him now that he was there.

The unlit version had inspired wonder, and now, even with only a faint light in his hand, the hall truly was even grander than how he had first perceived it. The candlelight revealed swirled stone floors, (the chessboard pattern was evident here as well) and carved railings embellished in gold. By now, he was certain that it'd be quite a sight to see it in _fully_-lighted glory, and when ignoring the reminder of his imprisonment that it brought, he was almost looking forward to seeing it in the morning.

The sheer amount of space was overwhelming, and Suzaku was quickly glad that at the moment his only light source was a candle—if he could have clearly seen any farther than a meter or two in front of him, he wouldn't have known where to start. He carved forward into the darkness with candle outstretched before him, heading to no one part of the hall in particular.  
It didn't take long for something to catch his eye and positively draw him in. He was up on a platform above the rest of the room that stretched around the sides leading to multiple doors and presumably stairways. A wide staircase in the center led to the upper portion and divided the two sides, while two slightly smaller ones provided shortcuts to either the left or right. The object capturing his attention was on the exact opposite side of where he had recently emerged from—and so he could only imagine it to be the door leading to the west wing of the castle.

The closer he got, the more the door stood out. Among the chess-related images delicately carved onto its stone surface, there was a crane, its wings sweeping out over the rest, along with a dozen other gentle images of birds and grasses. There was something undeniably warm, something that stood out about the door and what may lie behind it. It didn't take long for him to go from staring at its beauty, to actually pushing it open and walking inside.

Against expectations, the actual interior of this new hallway was not much different than the one at its opposite. In fact, from what he could make out, it was nearly identical. At first glance it seemed the unique door did not denote anything special about this stretch of castle—it was simply another long, vast hall, same colors, same layout, same décor.

Or not. The light from his candle fell upon something hanging upon the wall to his left in a quiet splendor—another painting, but one far larger than the ones he had seen in the other halls. His interest caught; Suzaku turned towards it so as to further illuminate it.

The light exposed the painting's subject—three richly dressed people. They seemed to be a family, not only by the similarities in their appearances, but by the gentle way their hands seemed to rest on one another's, or how their shoulders lightly touched together. Whoever the painter was, they had to be a master. The figures' expressions were lifelike and an indisputable connection pulsed among them—he had almost turned away upon getting the full view, feeling as though he had intruded in a private moment of the trio, and that he should apologize and leave. In the center was a woman dressed in blue—the mother, he imagined. She was a beautiful lady with a pretty smile (one that seemed to conceal a certain playfulness, or a wit, a sarcasm) and raven-colored hair that rippled down her back. From an elegant sit she wrapped her arm around a small girl, no older than six or seven, brown hair in tied with ribbons into pigtails and a sweet (_innocent_) face. Her hands were lovingly clasped around those of a boy seemingly a few years her senior, with hair to match his mother's in color, and bright, intelligent violet eyes that seemed to define everything about him perfectly.

He'd seen that face before—and not some long time ago, but a few hours ago, and few years' older version of it. He had no doubt by now that it was a portrait of Lelouch and his family—or at least a part of it.

Suzaku's first reaction was how odd it was, to see someone who left such a striking impression of powerful resentment and anger, so warm, and content. At first, it became more uncomfortable to look at with that thought in mind, like he really was deeply invading the privacy of the young man merely by looking at a painting on the wall. But slowly, it soothed him. The peace that reigned in the brushstrokes seemed to extend out to the person viewing the piece, welcoming him in as an honorary member of the family, and reassuring him that sweeter times existed for everyone, in the past and with hope, in the future.

Abruptly, he drew his thoughts back away from the painting and to the questions it brought about—the ones he had somehow ignored since becoming a prisoner. Among the poignant family ties shown in the painting, it also seemed to exude an aura of wealth and royal status in both its quality and in the manner and dress of its three subjects. This was a castle, and Lelouch was clearly its master, so what entitled him to such a place? He still didn't have the faintest idea of just who he was. A noble, a wealthy inheritor, a prince—anything seemed likely, but little seemed possible to discover.

He considered asking Milly or Shirley, or any one of the servants, but it didn't take long for him to realize that it was more likely than not that Lelouch had them sufficiently quieted. Even an unspecific answer would satisfy him for now—so perhaps Lelouch himself might be willing to give it? Once again, he didn't know. A soft sigh escaped him, and he reluctantly began to move away.

The hall did not allow him to linger on his questions for long—a single door appeared on that same wall only a few steps away. Within his sphere of candlelight, he could make out no other doorway, and a few more steps confirmed this to be a trend. The same design adorning the entrance to this section of the castle decorated the single door, but this time in white marble and gold, as if to openly state its purity and importance. There was something special, something enshrined about this entrance, something that seemed to represent what was on the other side. Instinct said to open the door, and reason said to ignore it, but Suzaku had never been one to deny an impulse, and he soon found his palms pressed flat against its surface and the door swinging in.

Cool air rushed against his face, originating from a pair of windows wide open on the other side. From above it, two white curtains, as snow white as nearly everything else in the room, rippled slowly outwards in signification of the breeze. They brushed against a large veiled object nearby—a bed. The faint, inexplicable presence of life could suddenly be felt—he was sure this was someone's room. With the feeling, his own feet began to move beneath him, carrying him across the room on their own accord, his hands soon trembling against the swaths of translucent fabric covering the bed, hovering slightly over it, but unwilling to touch.

"…Ah?" The tiny voice shook Suzaku from his daze, despite its softness. Had their been even the slightest trace of more noise in the room, he was certain that he wouldn't have heard it at all, and his hand pulled back to his sides. What was he thinking? That would be an invasion of privacy.

He heard it again. It had gained no volume from the first time, so it shouldn't have been such a force that it was. Only moments after the second time it sounded, he had lifted the veil, and slowly, hesitantly, slipped inside.

This was indeed someone's room, but the person who inhabited it seemed barely alive. In the center of the massive bed lay a tiny figure wrapped in blankets, her skin so pale that it melted into the sheets and covers around her. Only a sweeping fan of wavy brown hair, stretching out around her head and back, and a single rose resting on her chest seemed able of indicating her existence. Suzaku found his eyes open wide and his hand reaching gently out towards her. _Comfort._ That was the only thing he could think of doing—bringing her some sort of comfort if he possibly could. And when she formed an actual word—

"…Brother?"

—He reacted instantly. He carefully slid onto the side of the bed, his hands lowering to search for hers. They came and accepted them, her frail palms layering around his.

The girl paused, head tilted at a small angle and mouth slightly open, as if considering just what she could say now. It was puzzling, both to her and to him, and each was letting the other know in some way or form.

"…You aren't brother." She said at last. Her tone was not quite disappointed like he expected it to be, but contemplative and curious, despite its striking fragility.

"…No." For such a small little thing, she left a powerful impact, and Suzaku could think of nothing else to say in reply.

"You're hands…" She softly ran her fingers over his. "…Are much different than brother's. They're bigger than his. And your fingers aren't as skinny or long." She spoke in the gentlest voice, even gentler than Euphemia's. "They're rougher too, and much stronger. You're a hard worker, aren't you?" Suzaku grasped hopelessly for an answer to her words, but found himself unable to deliver one. "It's okay. This is how I learn about people, I'm sorry if it's frightening to you, or…"

"N-no." Suzaku struggled to say. "I don't think its odd… it's remarkable." She gave a small giggle, an infectious one that made him smile and laugh along with her.

"…Are you one of brother's guests? He hasn't had one in a long time." Her head tilted once again, now angled towards him, despite her firmly closed eyes. It struck him then that she was in fact blind—and that's why she hadn't know it was someone other than her brother until she had held his hand.

He sighed, and clasped her hands a little tighter. "…I suppose you could say that." A prisoner, a guest, what was the difference? She didn't need to hear the truth. "But I'll be staying longer than the other ones…much longer, I think."

"Do you have a home?" She asked quietly. Suzaku flinched. It should have been an innocent question, but the girl had now way of knowing just why that wasn't the case.

"…Yes and no." An unsure smile twitched at the corners of his mouth before he remembered she could not see it. "…Things were kind of funny back there. I had people who loved me, but a lot of people who didn't as well."

"But won't they miss you now?"

"No, it'll be all right… I'm staying here because it helps those people." The concern—an incredible, genuine _concern,_ still refused to leave her face. "And I suppose never really…fit in there." Instead of trying to smile, he attempted a chuckle in hopes of reassuring her, but ended up making a sound the exact opposite of what he had been aiming for. He didn't think she was fooled anyways.

"Well, I like you," She determined in the strongest voice she could seem to muster. "…Even if you don't like yourself. Hands tell a lot about people, and you have good ones—honest, and strong…" Her smile seemed to pierce though all of the sickly air that surrounded her, lifting up everything and everyone it reached. "…Kind too. Definitely kind."

"…Suzaku." He whispered. "My name is Suzaku."

"Suzaku…" She paused, nodding as she turned it over in her head. "Nunnally." She replied, that beautiful smile still showing. "Nunnally Lamperouge."

He had been aware of it the entire time they spoke, but it failed to fully connect until she said it herself. The portrait outside, the pure white door, the little girl, everything came together, and it was almost hard to believe that such a bitter young man could have such a remarkable, extraordinarily gentle young sister.

"Suzaku…"

"…What might you be doing here?" It had not even been a day and Suzaku was already well able to identify the voice coming from behind him, although its tone was slightly different than it had been. It was calmer than what he was becoming accustomed to, although a sharp tension spiked through the façade for the briefest of moments, purposely, but subtly giving away his displeasure.

Lelouch's arm was raised to keep the veil he was partway under pushed aside, as he stared at him, eyes hard and deriding. All Suzaku could do was stare back blankly.

"Brother?" Nunnally's voice broke into their stares. "Suzaku is going to be here for some time?"

Everything about him softened the minute she spoke, his expression, his voice, his posture and entire being, they all seemed to easily slip from cold into warm with the simple sound of her voice.

"…Yes. He'll be living here from now on. I was coming to tell you, but it seems he accidentally beat me to it." Lelouch's eyes flicked over to glance at him. "I hope you don't mind, Nunnally, but it's a bit of a complicated arrangement."

"Oh, I…" She trailed off before she could finish, suddenly dropping into a fit of violent coughs that sent Suzaku to his feet, and Lelouch lurching forward.

"Nunnally!" She shook her head weakly in response and took a gasping breath, before settling back down into exhaustion.

"I'm fine." She whispered hoarsely. "I..." She then seemed to slip out of consciousness, and Lelouch, now out from his place halfway under the canopy, bent over his sister with wide eyes.

Wide eyes that soon narrowed as they were directed at Suzaku.

"…Out." He ordered calmly. "Get out now." Suzaku didn't respond right away. It took him time to hear the command, to respond to it, and to slide his hands away from the unhealthy limp ones he held, all earning him more of Lelouch's ire. Numbly, he did as he was told, too tired to resist or explain, too tired to do it at a regular pace. He stumbled away from the bed and out the door into what seemed like endless darkness, despite the candles burning not far away.

He stared back at the door, wondering '_Why?' _and a thousand other things. And when Lelouch came out not a minute after he had, he wished that his arrival could mean some answers, even if only a few.

But he had seen enough already to know that wouldn't be the case.

"Why were you wandering?" His arms were crossed, and his stance and words were impatient, but his tone was eerily calm—all his fury appeared to be compressed within it. "You were wandering the halls. The _western_ halls, at that."

"I didn't know that I wasn't supposed to be here." Suzaku defended, focusing on keeping his voice low and relaxed when he answered. "I haven't been told anything about—"

"You were told to stay in your room until the morning, I think that should have been clear enough." Lelouch cut him off coldly. "Meaning that you shouldn't have been out here in the first place. Did those servants tell you it was perfectly all right, or is this some escapade of your own?"

Suzaku lowered his head in a quiet surrender. Arguing was hopeless with him, and questions were flat out impossible—prisoner, was once again becoming the more accurate term. He looked up to see Lelouch within an arms length of himself, heightening his imposing presence further and sending needles shooting down Suzaku's spine. Lelouch's eyes were sharper and colder than any time earlier that night, and all of his anger was directed precisely into Suzaku's own, leaving him unable to look away. He couldn't stop it, and cringed.

"The west wing of this castle is forbidden to you. Do you understand that? It's forbidden to _everyone _except myself, unless I give specific permission. If I find you there again, I won't hesitate to rid of you in whatever way I see fit." Suzaku continued to meet his crushing gaze, struggling against its force and trying not to falter or show any sign of yielding. He imagined he was failing to do so, and in turn making it worse for himself. He was fighting a losing battle, and everything he did only seemed to send it sinking down further and further.

So when he spoke back, he could hardly believe the words that came from his own mouth.

"It's because of her… isn't it?" Lelouch abruptly stepped back, suddenly struggling to remain in control. "That's your little sister in there… she's ill and you're trying to protect her." Lelouch was losing control of the conversation now, and he seemed to be resisting an urge to pull farther and farther away from Suzaku. "I'm sorry about her, really…I didn't know anyone would be in there, or that she'd be sick." He paused. "So I probably deserve to be yelled at—" He then stopped, realizing he was making things worse for both himself and Lelouch. The young man, though only very slightly, was trembling beneath a mask of calm and control, and he knew that he had struck at Lelouch's most vulnerable point—and the young man was slowly losing all his composure from the inside out.

"You're… you're…" His voice was frighteningly quiet, threatening to snap and roar out violently at the slightest provocation. "…Just leave, and now." He briskly pointed down the hall with a sharp flick of his wrist. "I don't care, go wherever you please, but get out of this hall and don't come back." Suzaku blinked at the request and didn't (or couldn't) move. "I said _now._" He repeated, the distinctive icy bite returning to his voice on the final word. Now, Suzaku listened, turning his back to Lelouch and beginning to make his way down the hallway, trying hard to push the guilt, and the feeling of all his steps being watched, to the very back of his mind. He wouldn't blame Milly or any of the servants for telling him it was okay to roam, or giving him the drink that in the end made him to do so. He couldn't blame Lelouch for his anger or fear, but he couldn't help himself from being plagued with questions, doubts, and wishes to help. He couldn't even blame himself, for entering the room, for being curious. But Lelouch refused to yield.

A small noise sounded overhead, one that shouldn't have commanded any attention. And it didn't— Suzaku walked on without paying thought to it. It came again, somewhat louder this time, until it burst open.

Suzaku hadn't even gone ten steps.

The sound was more than just recognizable—he had heard it that very night. It was smaller then, and farther away, but the basic sound was a constant and equally startling—it couldn't be shaken from his mind.

And had his senses been up to their usual standard, he might have been able to register it and he'd certainly be able to dodge whatever was about to come. But they weren't. They simply weren't and he had no time to react, no capacity left in his mind to move himself away. In an unmoving fraction of a second, his head drifted upwards, pointed towards the sound in a daze.

And the next thing he knew, he was on the ground and too stunned to speak. It wasn't the first time that had happened, and he doubted it'd be the last.

But what made it even worse this time—was the body curled on the floor in front of him.

* * *

Had it not been the situation that it was, Cecile was later certain that he might have enjoyed the looks on their faces as burst through the doorway without any forewarning, in his typical Lloyd fashion.

The cup of tea instantly dropped from Cecile's hand upon his sudden arrival, but she didn't take notice of the fact that it was spilling its contents all over the tablecloth. Instead she came to her feet as quickly as she could manage.

"Lloyd!" She wasn't even sure of exactly what sort of intonation her shout held, but seemed to be part-surprise, part-relief, and part something entirely more angry.

"Aheheh, Cecile…" Lloyd knew it was coming, and she could tell. She wouldn't deny his prediction either.

"You _moron!_" She landed a first-rate slap on his face; making Euphemia, watching them from a seat at the table, jump in her chair in the same way she had when he entered. The tea cup was frozen in her hand, her eyes were fixed on the two of them, and she was unable to stop listening to the stream of reproach shooting from Cecile's at a breakneck pace. Lloyd, however, had seemed to have already tuned out this gush, and after listening through his obligatory time, slipped past Cecile and into the first chair he could find, sprawling out over the table.

Cecile suddenly quieted as his mood became apparent along with what was missing. "…Where's Suzaku-kun?" Lloyd shifted slightly on the table, but did not answer yet.

"Where is he?" Euphemia repeated. Her voice trembled at first, but she found her strength—and audibly poured it all into asking those three words.

"He's not here." Lloyd finally replied. "He's just not." Cecile unsteadily walked back into the kitchen, dropping soundlessly back into her chair.

"Then…where is he?"

"Where else?" Lloyd mumbled, the words muffled by his arm. "He's at the castle."

Euphemia was the first to reply. With that same quiet grace she had just spoken with, she said the first thing she could think of.

"Get Gino." She said firmly. "He's his closest friend, and he needs to hear this too."

"He hasn't left for the city yet." Cecile whispered. "I'll go right now."

It didn't take long for her to return with the merchant, and his expression not too different from those of the other's—worried eyes, a creased brow, and a deep frown.

From there, the three listened as Lloyd recounted the story of the past several hours; of blacking out in the woods and waking up in a castle, of a sickly young girl, a crowd of cursed people, an order from a beautiful young man that he literally couldn't resist or properly remember. Then, of a prisoner's cell, of Suzaku's arrival, and finally—a trade. The room did not fall to silence after his account was finished, but burst a thousand directions at once, with Gino shouting, Cecile rapidly speaking in a hushed whisper, and Euphemia simply staring out in quiet horror. At last, Cecile stopped, put her hands tightly on Gino's shoulders, and eased him back into his chair.

"Calm down," He half-heartedly tried to get back up, but Cecile kept him still. "This won't get us anywhere." She glanced to Euphemia, her eyes not having left a single distant spot in some time. Cecile had invited her in for the very purpose of calming her down—the sight of the sweet girl sleeplessly wandering the streets at odd hours of the night was heartbreaking, and she figured they could both use the other's company. In the end, it probably was a good thing that Euphemia was already there to hear the grim new firsthand, but she clearly wasn't handling it well. Unfortunately, consoling was awfully difficult when she herself dearly needed it as well. "Miss Euphemia…" She leaned in, searching for her attention. Her wide lilac eyed slowly, very slowly, returned from wherever they had been and focused unsteadily on Cecile.

"Miss Croomy, he's…" Her head was shaking back and forth and her hands trembled lightly until Cecile gently took hold of her shoulder, deciding there was no better comfort she could offer. "Lloyd," Euphemia began. "Is there any possible way…is there anything we can do…?" He didn't answer, presumably because he didn't have one. No one had an answer to give anyone, and none seemed to be coming soon.

"…We need to start with what's good here," Gino broke in. "He's alive, and that's better than nothing. We still have a chance." Euphemia nodded faintly to this. "And things could be a lot worse, right?" He apparently intended for the question to be directed at Lloyd, but the inventor was unresponsive. "At least… we're fairly sure he still is." Silence from the rest of the group followed, unsettling all of them. With a shake of his head, he dismissed it. "So if we know he's there, and we can figure out a way to _get _there, there's a chance we could help him." Gino was beginning to get on a roll, the idea unfolding from his head to his mouth and out to the rest of the room.

"And how do you plan on finding it?" Lloyd's muffled voice countered, cutting his thoughts short. "I don't even know how _Suzaku_ did in the first place."

Cecile sighed, trying hard not to let Lloyd's pessimism on the subject infect her own thoughts. She wouldn't let it—she refused to ignore the possibility presented to them, regardless of how flawed and problematic it might be.

Gino wouldn't take it quite so easily. "You can't just say that," Gino was up from his chair once again, his hands flat against the table and most of his weight put on them. "Are you mad? You adopted him, and somehow you don't want to at least _try_ to find him? Dammit, get yourself together, you're—"

"Stop," Cecile warned, reaching her free hand over to Gino. This was getting worse—now she was trying to comfort two people, while _still_ needing it herself. She silently wondered how much longer she might last. "He does care, it's just…" She couldn't quite find the right way to describe it; Lloyd had never been affectionate, at least not towards humans, or anything living for that matter. "…It's just the way Lloyd is." She explained softly. It was quick, it was imprecise, but it'd have to do for now. Gino wouldn't look at her, but his expression told enough for her to know that he accepted it—if somewhat begrudgingly. "Besides, we should focus on Suzaku-kun, right?"

"I'm sorry," He apologized, more to everyone than to Lloyd specifically. He sunk back to his chair (Cecile had lost track of the number of times he had been up and down in this one conversation alone) and shut his eyes.

"Gino…" Euphemia reached to Cecile's hand resting on her shoulder and lightly touched her fingers in a gentle signal that she was okay—that Cecile need not strain herself any further over trying to ease her worry. "I'm more than willing to give it a shot." Her hand was now closed in a fist, tightly resting in her lap, bringing small folds of her dress up between her fingers. "…I-I know it might not work out, and that we may not even be able to find that place, but… we just can't leave him. I know that much." She pushed a strand or two of pink hair from bloodshot eyes, and looked to Gino, then Cecile calmly before standing form her chair and announcing: "I'm going to talk to my sister."

Cecile hesitated to reply—Cornelia had more power than any of them, and certainly more resources. But she also harbored a small hate for Suzaku, one that may interfere with the goal they were trying to accomplish. At the same time she'd do almost anything for her little sister.

"Euphemia…" She raised a hand out to stop her, to talk a bit further about how exactly she might go about this, but the young woman was already shuffling into her coat and heading for the door.

"I'll go too." Gino added, copying her procedure with his own coat and following her out. "We'll be back as soon as possible—just hold on!" He was halfway out the door already and quickly and he soon shut it behind him. Cecile waited for it to close completely before she sighed and buried her head in her hands—regretting having ever allowed Suzaku to go.

* * *

It didn't take long for Gino to catch up with Euphemia—his arrival was sudden, apparently having sprinted in order to catch up.

"Hey," He breathed, slowing to match Euphemia's hurried jog. A heavy silence then followed, during which Euphemia wished she didn't have to be wearing a dress so that she might be able to move faster, that she would have known where Suzaku had been going earlier, and that her older sister would be willing to help.

She always was a dreamer. Or perhaps more aptly: a wisher. She wrote stories in her head, daydreamed in the marketplace, and reached for the stars—sometimes even literally. She sang when no one watched (and sometimes when they did), she laughed freely, and most of all she made herself a list of wishes—and didn't care that not one had come true quite yet. After all, she was young, and her dreams were new, and even if they weren't fulfilled come the time of those years far down the road, well, she was sure she'd still believe in them anyway.

_(As far as she was concerned, he had simply appeared one day, out of the blue and without any warning. He shifted uncomfortably when she talked to him, like he'd prefer to be moving rather than simply standing around._

"_You're not from around here," she queried as she scrutinized his face with scrunched up eyes. Her rosy locks swept down with a bounce when she tilted her head—she had always liked that, since it showed just how long it was becoming._

Of all the wishes she had made, there was one that had stood in the center of all the others, and hadn't changed since the day since the day she met him.

_(His face was slightly round-ish and very much his age—aside from his eyes. There was something inside those large, childlike eyes that didn't match up, there was some little portion that might have been too grown-up for a ten-year old boy. _

"_Sort of, I mean, in a way..." He answered, those green eyes blinking back at her. "I'm not from the Britannian villages or cities."_

"_Even one like this?" She asked, head tilting further. Some, like hers, had existed for hundreds of years before the conquering of the country it resided in._ _He shook his head. She then realized exactly what he was getting at.)_

He was kind-hearted and a little out-of-place—that was clear to her right from the start. She supposed it shouldn't have been surprising that she liked him more and more with each passing year.

_(She waited a beat, still staring into his eyes. They filled her with such a satisfaction, a joy, and before she knew it: _

"_Euphemia!" She said cheerfully, dipping into a polite curtsey. "But I'd really like it if you called me Euphy!"_

_The slightest hint of a smile appeared on his face, and that made all the difference. The slight sadness, the maturity that didn't belong, was drowned out when he began to smile. And it lit up her heart._

"_Suzaku." The smile widened, only by a fraction, but it was marvelous, and she could still see it grow._

_Suddenly, he had become the most amazing person in her world.)_

"Euphy?"

Gino broke her from her recollections with this. The blonde sounded fine, if a little quieter than normal, but looked tired. Euphemia realized that she must have been the same way, or worse. Gino could at least to some extent, mask the troubles in his voice, while hers wavered and dipped beyond her control.

So although she turned her head to meet his call, she hesitated in replying to it.

"…Yes?" She squeaked out in a hushed tone, hoping that if she was quiet, he might not be able to pick up on the instability in her voice. Gino's eyes lit up victoriously when she answered; seemingly taking delight in the fact that she was still somewhat responsive.

"…Maybe this isn't the best thing to be asking right now, but," They were beginning to slow down. Euphemia wasn't sure if it was a sign that a conversation was about to unfold, or if they were simply getting tired, but the answer was probably more irrelevant than anything. "Why do you like Suzaku?"

Her hasty walk skidded all the way to a slow one when the question reached her. She looked at him, asking with blinking eyes and a slightly open mouth if he was really being so upfront and direct about this. Nothing about his expression said 'no,' and she quickly adverted her gaze, fingers folded and fidgeting in front of her.

"I…Well…" Regaining some poise (enough to get by) she turned back to him, forcing her fingers to stop moving so erratically when she did. "He's…" Now onto her third false start, she finally just let out a small laugh that blended together with a sigh. "…There's just something special about him. He's not quite like anyone else from around here—he works just as hard, and he's just as nice, but he does all of that regardless of how they all treat him." Her head had tilted back to face the vastness of the night sky, and the night's first real trace of a happy expression came over her. "…No, even more so. He works nonstop but doesn't complain at all—and then his smile, his laugh… they're like music," Her eyes caught a bright star shimmering up in the sky and their lids drifted shut. "And I wish I could do all of that too."

Her closed eyelids and dreamlike state having shut off most of her awareness to the world around her, she opened them to find they had stopped, and were standing along an empty cobbled road running down the center of the village.

"I-I'm sorry!" She stuttered, hands and feet in a flurry as she tried to wave off the heavy air and resume the walk. "I rambled didn't I? Oh, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have done that! You're probably bored out of your mind by now, listening to me go on about him…" She shook her head vigorously, sending her hair swishing back and forth in waves. This wasn't the first time she had drifted off about a certain topic, but it was the first time she had done that about _Suzaku. _Had she told anyone how she felt before? Surely she had… but had she gone on about _why? _That, she couldn't seem to recall no matter how hard she tried. And it was slowly driving her mad…

"Relax!" Gino planted a hand on her shoulder, slowing down her erratic movements in a way slightly similar to what Cecile had done to him earlier. "It's okay! I asked the question, remember?" She gradually drifted down from her mild panic, searching her company's gaze for a sign of support. He gave her a reassuring grin, one Euphemia suddenly remembered he was near famous for, and that was enough. She breathed out a long sigh, telling herself over and over again herself to rest, that Gino was right, and she was only being self-conscious. (And distantly—concerned.)

"…I agree." He said.

"…Hm?"

"He's all those things that you mentioned," He began slowly, in an uncharacteristically mellow and controlled voice. "And I don't think he's ever realized that he actually _is _all of those things, or that there are people here who care about him." Euphemia realized that he was beginning to grit his teeth, bitter thoughts more likely than not rising. "God, there are a lot of morons here."

Euphemia blinked, tilting her head in that same way she used to as a child. It didn't take her long to figure out what he was referring to, and in some ways, (when she thought of the looks they gave him, or the whispered 'Eleven' behind his back) she agreed. But…

"…They just don't see things clearly all the time." She decided, folding her hands so that her fingers were touched together at the tips and splayed. "So they end up ignoring the obvious things and act like that."

Gino's reaction wasn't quite one of disbelief, nor disagreement. He merely stared at her for several long seconds, seemingly reviewing every past instance where her words might apply in a short period of time.

"…Yeah." He nodded slightly. Euphemia knew that it was something she could only hope was true, something she had no solid proof for, and probably never would. Yet she still held on to it, because she didn't want to believe, that these people, her people, were anything truly twisted. "…It's no wonder you like Suzaku so much," Gino added, looking out into the distance with a calm smile. "You two are cut from the same mold."

Euphemia took a moment to register the compliment and the comparison, both of which she was certain she didn't deserve (but then again, Suzaku probably wouldn't have thought he deserved any of the earlier compliments either…) and quickly tried to dispel them once she did. She didn't have his work ethic, or his strength, his smarts, his charm…

"I wouldn't say—" She protested, only to be quickly cut off.

"Come on. He's waiting on us, right?" Gino tugged her wrist to start her walking. They had stopped not far from their destination; the front of her house was within sight and perhaps a minute's walk away.

"Wait, Gino!" Euphemia pulled to a halt before they could cover any real ground. She looked to the ground, now doubting if she wanted to say what she was thinking of.

"…Do you think my sister will even…?" She wasn't quite having second thoughts about consulting her sister, but if she were to be honest about it, she was _afraid. _Cornelia could very well disapprove of the idea of helping in a search, Euphemia wasn't even sure if she even cared much for the one they were looking for. Did she mind Suzaku? Her sister was simply unreadable sometimes.

A steady look met her gaze, quietly concerned, but with a positive glint in his eyes. "I wouldn't know. She's your sister, after all… but we'll have to try and hope for the best, right?"

Her reply came in a slight shift in posture, a flick of her eyes across the ground, and a careful (but heartfelt) smile.

"If she says no…" But, she didn't want to think about that, no, because she was going to say yes_. _"We'll just have to get her to reconsider, right?"

"There you go! We're not going to let her say anything other than yes," Gino, satisfied with this, reached an arm out towards the house, "Because as I said, Suzaku's depending on us." Euphemia was then certain that Gino's optimism and confidence were absolute blessings, just waiting for the right moment to shine. "After you?"

It wasn't anything grand or confident like Gino could muster up, but she nodded, and started to walk.

* * *

(Aha, with my longer fics... I always take so long to get to the SuzaLulu, don't I? Well, relationships take time, right? It'll be starting soon, I promise! ^_^)

Thanks for reading~! To everyone who has reviewed thus far: I love you guys. Seriously. All this feedback is really touching and encouraging, and all I can say is that I'm very much honored and touched by all of these reviews, and then thank you about a million times. ^_^ Feedback like this not only adds to the confidence level in all sorts of ways, but is also wonderful motivation. I hope this fic continues to live up to all of your kind, kind words!

(To everyone reading and enjoying who hasn't reviewed, don't get me wrong, I love you guys too!)


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** Another semi-long delay between chapters, and I sincerely apologize for that. May has been... an adventure. So, writing for this has been sporadic at times and such, so you'll have to forgive me. ^_^' The next one may or may not take just as long to arrive- summer is coming, so that will give me more time, but there's a good chance my plate will be quite full from now until then, and maybe even further. I will try my best to be more timely- thanks for hanging in there guys, all of your loving review and comments are amazing!

No warnings really, opening is a bit dark... and of course, I own nothing regarding Code Geass, the characters, and the idea behind this. Only the story.

Hope you all enjoy! ^_^

* * *

Five years ago, he almost had to start over from the very beginning, for a second time. It halted just before it reached his home, sparing everything they had worked hard to create and maintain. He never forgot that. From the noontime market that day, to the early hours of the following morning, his town was ablaze. Everything he had learned to love became nothing but scorched wood, singed flesh and dead ashes before Suzaku, before _anyone _there could realize it.

He remembered sitting on a blackened street corner when the last sparkling embers drifted through the air with that early morning sky concealed by a thick blanket of smoke, lung-choking smoke, and feeling as if he _had _lost everything, and that he did nothing about it.

But the fire had not reach their cottage. Lloyd and Cecile were safe. Everything they owned, all of Lloyd's works were safe. Others had it far worse, but they smiled at their own misfortune and picked themselves up as if nothing had happened, but he was unable to find the willpower to do it.

"Stop it." A voice had shaken him from his misery, and drearily, he greeted it.

"…Stop what?" He had bewilderedly asked, lungs burning and muscles sore.

"Don't give me that face. You know what I'm talking about." Gino scolded, his own smeared black with ash. His faint smile seemed even whiter than usual behind it. "You did the best you could—there's nothing to blame yourself over."

Of course, the best he could offer wasn't enough. He had reached as far as he possibly could, strained his eyes against the smoke, ran harder, breathed in black smog until he couldn't stand it any longer, but all he found in the end was terrible screams, a hand reaching from the window, falling limp before it could go any further, and charred semblances of bodies that seemed to just slip from his grasp—

"…I watched them, I watched them die, Gino," He choked and coughed, but he couldn't find the sob welling up inside. "I watched them _die_." The words hung in the poisonous air for long, far too long.

"…We all did, Suzaku," Gino's attempt at a smile had long disappeared with his scolding voice, to be replaced by heavy, gentle notes and (if Suzaku had bothered to look) a somber face. "No one could have done better than what you did…it's awful, I know. It's unfair, damn it, but _no one_ could have gotten them." The words must have tried, but they couldn't quite find their way to Suzaku's ears, and he continued his stare at the warm ground beneath. "Just try to think of all the lives you saved, and remember the ones that no one could."

In glorious irony, the fire had been the revival of the castle rumors. Because it was easier to blame it on some beast, some twisted monster deciding to wreak his havoc on the closest, sleepiest town. To blame something unexplained on something even more mysterious, more bizarre, to forge an answer to a difficult question with the most extravagant, distracting thing they could think of. It was a beautiful thing, and in some ways still was, for a story could unite the entirety of a broken town.

But now, five years later, Suzaku realized something fundamentally wrong about their explanation, as he suddenly found himself understanding Lelouch a bit better. He remembered the feeling of helplessness, of watching those people die, of how much he wanted to stop it, of all the things he would do to run a bit farther, reach a bit higher, breathe a bit longer, and _save _them. That's all Lelouch wanted to do. He wanted to do something, not simply sit and watch his precious sister wither like the rose on her chest, he wanted to give her a future. He didn't want to be helpless—so how could they blame something that inspired the same feeling on such a man, even if they did not know that he even was one?

It was an awful thing, to be powerless, and the emotional wave that so often accompanies that sensation struck him once again as he sat stunned on the floor, and with it, that new understanding of his captor.

Especially saying that it was his captor lying among the rubble, and once again, Suzaku was helpless to do anything.

He was angled away from Suzaku, his expression (if he was even conscious) not visible to him from where he sat. For several long seconds, neither of them moved, and Suzaku was left in a state of declining shock and a horrific speculation of the severity of whatever had occurred. Then, a long shaky breath, a near shudder from Lelouch broke through the uneasy calm. Without thinking, Suzaku crept in a long silent motion to his feet, and then to the young man's side. Hesitantly, he knelt, brushing the shards and rubble away from his knees. Then, with an even greater delay, he looked over Lelouch's shoulder, and searched for his eyes.

He found promising news—it was a start, and Suzaku let out a breath he hardly realized he had been holding. They were narrowed to a thin degree, presumably in pain, but open nonetheless and searching for their lost focus, honing in on him once it had been found.

"The…" Lelouch stopped hardly a second after he started, and settled for lifting his head and tilting it slightly towards the ceiling.

Suzaku's eyes slid upwards in accordance. Even after a quick glance, it wasn't hard to guess. A large section of the decorative stone was now gone from its original location and strewn across the floor. The noise, the crash, the familiarity of it all, came together and formed him an answer. He didn't bother saying it. Lelouch knew it, and no one could possibly want to be reminded of something like that.

Suzaku instantly forced himself to calm down. (_Because panic leads to disaster. He had done well so far, right?) _The man in front of him was hardly the same imposing force he had come to expect; he was smaller somehow, unmoving and slightly curled on the ground—almost unnervingly so.

But luckily, the initial shock had disappeared, and only the immediate moment remained. "If… you can answer me, do you know what happened?" Suzaku's voice came out far stronger than he expected and it gradually gained momentum. "…Where were you hit?"

"What…?" Lelouch's reply was soft, contorted in pain, and slightly indignant to what had been asked.

"Where were you…" Suzaku stopped, having realized he was about to give the wrong answer. Lelouch was asking something entirely different. "…I'm trying to help—I want to help, please." No answer this time; he could only imagine the cause to be disbelief. "Please," He tried once more, only to be met with a hard glare.

So, Suzaku ignored it, and didn't wait for a real answer and shifted to his other side. He found his answer there, in a limp arm resting beside a pained face and raven-colored hair. Lelouch's eyes were wide open now, staring at him in some strange mixture of wonder, hurt, and distrust.

"…My wrist." He gave in at last, eyes closing on the final word.

It made sense—the breakaway had hit him and shaken him hard, stealing his breath and knocking him to the ground, his wrist breaking the impact of the descent. Suzaku slowly exhaled a breath. Lelouch was lucky. _(Because he'd seen the same thing once before, a young woman his same age, a blackened beam of house, falling towards her, blindly running, a crash and—) _Gingerly, he reached a hand down to his arm, lightly running them over a thin wrist.

"Can you move it?"

Lelouch shifted slightly, seeming to have finally caught his breath. Still, Suzaku could see a slight tremble in his movement, a lingering sense of a shock in his wide eyes, and a face even paler than normal.

"No." He sighed at last, appearing almost as if he was sinking down into the stone floor with the release of tension.

"God, it's probably broken then…" Suzaku put a hand to the side of his head in a burst of frustration. "Is there any servant who can help?" He hated that he was asking so many questions—and suddenly he felt more like a bother than assistance.

"…I typically handle health issues." Lelouch answered quietly, and Suzaku felt like a fool once again. Of course he did. With an ill sister, he'd want to have as much control over that sort of thing as he could possibly manage, leaving Suzaku virtually on his own. He had the knowledge; at least to some extent, but not the proper experience. Helping mend a few fractures around his town hardly seemed to count for anything.

But he didn't really have much of a choice right now. It was leave the young man there, or abandon his doubt and help him, and the first was hardly much of an option at all.

"Are there supplies in your sister's room?" Unsure of how Lelouch might react, he was careful not to say 'Nunnally,' electing to use a more indirect reference instead. Lelouch nodded; sliding carefully onto his back with slow precision, so as to not move his wrist resting outstretched on the floor.

"The bottom drawer of the cupboard beside her bed," He replied, eyes shut once again and wincing as he changed position. "…Check there."

Listening, Suzaku rose from beside him, heading through the door to a quiet snow-white heaven, mind swirling with thoughts of Lelouch, Nunnally, Lelouch, Nunnally—And although his hands worked quickly, the entire time he found himself plagued by a strange sort of hesitation in his thoughts, as if he didn't feel right leaving the young man, even if it was only for these few short minutes. It didn't matter how relatively trivial an injury was, or how aloof its bearer may be—to be alone and in pain was a terrible thing, something he saw as unacceptable for a person to have to face. Converting the hesitation in his head to fuel for his movements, he sharply pulled open the drawer Lelouch had indicated and gathered a pile of cloth and bandages from it with unrelenting speed. In some respects, he could only be thankful for the rush. Less time to think, about how he may hurt more than help, about the man he was helping, about how he learned thing like how to fix fractured bone—more time to simply act.

_("Oh, Suzaku? Thanks."_

"_Is this…?"_

"_Yes, you did a fine job, he'll be okay."_

"_Are you sure? I did this without anyone helping, I'm no doctor, I don't—" _

"_I'll check it. No need to be lingering."_

"_May I stay to see if I—"_

"_I'll tell you tomorrow. You're still lingering."_

_He left.)_

He glanced wistfully back to the silent veils only once as he made his way to the door, and he had almost reached it when something occurred to him for the first time.

He had not taken any notice to it when he had started to leave the hall, but he had heard it—the crackling noise and the sound of tiny fragments raining down, and all from directly above him before he was knocked to the ground in a hasty confusion.

He swallowed, fighting back the comprehension of the situation that was steadily making its way to the surface. It wasn't Lelouch who had originally stood in the path of that falling rock, no, he had been farther back. It was _him. _He should be the one on the floor, gasping to reclaim air with a cracked and throbbing wrist he couldn't move—or worse.

His palms stopped before they could reach the door, all the bandages nearly tumbling from his arms right there.

* * *

Lelouch had stopped trembling fairly quickly, or at least enough not to be noticeable or a cause of concern in the eyes of the person who tended to him. The back of his head rested against the wall, but he couldn't find it in himself to close his eyes and merely count each thump that ran through his arm in a daze; this was far too strange for that.

He didn't watch or make a sound as the young man's fingers slowly danced around his wrist, each movement leaving another layer of cloth and bandage to keep the bone still. The boy would glance occasionally from the work to Lelouch's eyes and then back again. Each moment of mutual eye contact was short, but still managed to leave an impact—Suzaku's eyes had changed, or perhaps, shed their defenses would be a more fitting description of it. Gone was the confused, dreary downcast that he had to suppose wanted nothing more than the world to make sense once again. Each glance from the inventor's son was clean and determined, threatening to overflow with a returning spirit.

Even stranger was the ceaseless shiver that belonged not to him, but to Suzaku. He was shaking—from his rough fingers that brushed against his wrist all the way through his body, a slight tremble visible around his shoulders and in his quivering hair. It left Lelouch with an odd kind of wonder, a kind that nearly verged on pity. He could pass it off as nothing but prolonged shock from what had just happened, but that seemed too flimsy of an explanation to him. There was something more behind his tremble—something had changed about his mood between the time he had left to fetch the supplies and his return. Something was shakier, more startled about him than even beforehand.

But most of all, it made no sense for a prisoner to be doing this. Suzaku should hate him. He had destroyed his life, and only a few hours ago at that. The wound should be raw; he ripped away his family, and only after threatening to kill a member of it. And he should be welcoming all of that hate with open arms—it was completely ordinary. So why not? Why, why _not_? Was this supposed to be repayment for shoving him out of the way? Or was it no less of an impulse than that very action had been?

He soon began to wish that Suzaku would stop. He wished he wouldn't look at him with those wide eyes, or tend to his wrist with a noticeable concern displayed on his face, or quiver as he did. It wasn't that it annoyed him—it was that it _didn't._ The careful motions felt at his wrist, entrancing, rhythmic, allowed it to change from shock, to curiosity, to unease, and back around again. Finally, at an intermittent glance, Lelouch took the chance and caught Suzaku's gaze, holding it this time. A touch of fear crept back into his expression when their eyes met and he froze.

"Why…?"

His own mouth was open, but to his small surprise, he found that the word did not come from it. Suzaku asked the same question he had considered, with a slightly different meaning in mind.

The brunette shrunk back after he spoke the single word, cutting their eye contact as quickly as he seemed to be able to manage. Lelouch had no doubt that he had not meant to let that out—the young man had blurted the first thing on his mind in the spur of the moment, and seemed to be regretting it.

"I'm sorry," He tried to mend the blunder in a quiet voice, refusing to look up. "That isn't the question to be asking."

He knew this would be coming. The prison master cares nothing of the inmates, the player does not weep over a lost pawn—so why should he have done that? Why indeed. He found no satisfaction in every feasible explanation he had already come up with, and despite the constant arrival of more and more possibilities, none seemed to find his approval.

"I…don't know." He murmured, flinching inside at the stupidity and lack of planning in his answer. Spontaneous answers were not merely uncharacteristic and ridiculous in his mind, but dangerous. A sudden answer to a minor question would seem inconsequential until it led to something worse—the witch, the curse, Nunnally, his land—

Suzaku only sat in silence with him, not commenting or replying to the answer. Then slowly, as if just waking up, he ended his long contemplative stare at the ground, picked up another bandage, and wound it around Lelouch's arm with the exact same care he had shown the entire time. It wasn't until Suzaku had finished that either of them spoke again.

"…I don't think my answer would have been any different." Suzaku broke the silence not a second after he finished tying the last bandage. Lelouch tried not to sigh. Of course it wouldn't be, saying that it seemed far more characteristic of an answer for Suzaku. "Try not to move it much," he said, pulling his hands back to his sides. "It should heal in four weeks or so, so you'll have to just be patient." Lelouch stared wordlessly back at him, letting his expression convey everything. Aside from the time it would take to heal, he was stating the obvious. But he didn't mind—somehow, it seemed more thoughtful than anything, he was only double-checking, as any sensible person might do. Perhaps the real mystery was why this boy was even _helping _him in the first place.

But then again, why had _he_ even saved him in the first place?

"Oh…you already know, don't you?" Suzaku mumbled, a touch of shame or embarrassment coming over his face. Lelouch nodded. "…Sorry." He added ungracefully a moment later.

"No, no, it's… fine. You couldn't have known."

A long silence. This time there weren't even slight movements there to break it up, leaving nothing but a cold, still air for them to hover in.

"…Can you recall where your room is?" Lelouch finally asked. The relief of speaking was instant—useless silence would only complicate things further. Suzaku's head snapped back up to attention when he spoke. He had appeared to have been verging on falling asleep in the lull of the past few minutes, head tilted down, chin resting against his chest, and eyes half-shut. "…If you would like to go there." Lelouch added carefully, his tone kept at a calculated calm.

"That sounds good," Suzaku rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palm, but it didn't seem to make him any more alert. "I think I lit candles…I think…" He sighed. "But your servants had their fun a bit earlier." A small smile cracked at Lelouch's lips. He'd have to talk to Milly about that later.

"Well, I suppose it isn't much of an issue," Lelouch leaned over on his good arm, trying to use it and the wall behind him to get up to his feet. When he groggily noticed the struggle, Suzaku quickly stumbled up and offered a hand, puling Lelouch up without problem. After a whispered, slightly regretful "thanks," he continued speaking. "Then I'll have to show you back to it. Perhaps you'll actually stay and sleep this time."

Suzaku only nodded a response, and Lelouch decided not to linger there any longer. They were both too tired and shocked to make any good sense of this. Sleep would clear it up, it'd let him find the answers—or at least, he could only hope that it would. After a few unsteady steps to find his footing, Suzaku watching each one as carefully as he possibly could, (while still appearing to be ready to fall asleep at any given moment) he slowly led the way forward and out of the hall, injured wrist cradled against his side.

* * *

The third time was the charm. Or at least, Suzaku had heard that it was supposed to be.

The first time he had woken up in the castle was anything but pleasant, snapping from a dreamlike state back into the reality of his situation. Of course, he wasn't sure that the bleary half-awake, half-dazed-state even counted as a slumber to wake up from, but the general idea was there. The second time had been even worse—waking up with almost all of the shock of the previous time, with the added affect of enough aches to equal a week of mishaps with Lloyd's inventions, an impending feeling of vomiting, and no sense of balance.

This time, he didn't remember falling asleep, getting into bed, or even coming back to his room. There was simply a series of events present in his mind that led up to it: a walk, to Nunnally, to an accident and Lelouch—and waking up now. And this awakening certainly won out over the rest.

To start, it was bright—and not by the light of torches or candles, but by actual morning sunlight, filtering in through the windows and balcony door. Any subtle eeriness the room had given off had vanished with the darkness, and the sparkling gold and glass took precedent in its place.

Although his side hurt and his cuts still burned, his head no longer throbbed in the least, with his cheek buried deeply into a pillow, and a hand resting in his now disheveled hair. It was almost a regretful movement to react to the light that slowly stretched across his bed and rise from the comfort of the pillow, but he propped himself up, rubbing his eyes until they cleared.

"Goood morning!" A teapot's cheerful voice seemed to fit right in with the dazzling atmosphere, so although it took him a second to remember exactly whom it belonged to, it didn't surprise him to hear it. She was up on the bed to greet him not a moment later. "You're looking much better this morning, sweetie! Much better indeed!" Suzaku nodded vaguely to this and shook his head to clear it. From the corner of his eye, he could see Shirley twisted around to look at him, seemingly just as pleased to see him looking a little more alive.

"I _feel_ much better." He mumbled, yawning. His vest and necktie were still in place, but it seemed he had at least managed to slip out of his shoes before collapsing entirely.

"I brought you some tea, scones, eggs, muffins, bacon… so, eat whichever ones you like!" Milly continued, hopping to the nightstand and then the floor.  
"We can talk about everything after you eat," Jeremiah joined in, stern voice a sharp contrast to Milly's, who then happily reminded him not to rush.

Kallen apparently had been completely and effectively forced into her job by now, as Suzaku found himself able to drink the tea without ruining the covers, although mumbles of protest still drifted from her every so often. But the utensils were stationary, and he ate slowly, stopping only to ask a few questions about the dinner from the night before (Milly laughed before apologizing wholeheartedly for what happened. Suzaku wasn't quite sure what to say that,) and using the time to recall as much as he could, reorganize his thoughts and once again, remind himself that this was indeed reality.

Sufficiently gathered and for the most part done with the meal, Suzaku looked to the group on the floor. The teapot, cup, candlestick, clock, and dresser were all present, expressions varying widely.

Suzaku began cautiously: "…How is he?"

"He's doing fine," Milly replied, apparently well aware of last night's incident. "It is fractured, and he was in some pain last night, but it's fading." She paused awkwardly for a moment to gather herself. "Thank you, Suzaku. You had no reason to help him, but you did anyway."

Suzaku looked down and away from the group, distracting himself by pushing the covers off his bed. His teeth dug into his lower lip—he didn't deserve any thanks, _Lelouch_ did. His eyes could be shut right now, his own body could be crushed beneath a pile of rubble, but perhaps the bitterest man he'd met, who had shown him nothing but scorn and anger until then, had chose to push him aside. And instead of showing his gratitude, he had simply stared blankly ahead, numbly wrapping the young man's wrist without any vocal expression of gratefulness for what he had done.

"…Who is he?" Suzaku knew it was bold, he knew it was risky, and he soon knew that he wasn't going to get a direct answer as he watched all of their expressions change instantly. They remained just as unique from one another's, but they were quite different from the one's they had on before. "Or at least, what happened to him? Why do these things happen, with his eye, and the wall and ceiling…Just some sort of hint, please." Their emotions found some agreement at last, and after a brief chain of exchanged glances, Milly spoke.

"Suzaku…" That was never a good start. "It's… well, it's not _our_ place to go telling you those things. They're the master's issues—so naturally, what to say and what not to say is for him to decide, not us." A new look had come to her face that Suzaku had not seen before, backing the sincerity of her apology. "So things could get complicated for you, me, all of us, if we were to say something unwanted. And at this point, this isn't personal—I promise, but I sincerely doubt he wants anything said at all." Finishing, she looked up to Suzaku for his response.

"I understand." He replied softly, keeping his answer simple and short as he could come up with no better one. He wondered how long it would take before he might learn something. If this was to be his new home, he'd have to find out sometime, not even Lelouch could keep something so important under wraps for that long. But just _how_ long might that be?

"…Here, look, I'll tell you this much," Milly inched forward slightly and dropped her voice to a barely audible whisper. "…He's nothing. Nothing to anyone but us—not anymore, not here." Her voice was gentle and heavy with what could only be pity and remorse, but the words reached Suzaku in an almost haunting tone, creeping to his ears and echoing over and over in his head. "It's what he _was _and how that changedthat I think you're interested in." She then backed up to rejoin the rest of the group, Suzaku left in the daze of his own thoughts.

So he had fallen from some sort of status. Why, how? —Just more questions to ask.

"The master would like to speak with you in approximately one hour," Jeremiah explained. "Rivalz will return and show you the way then, so use this time to wake up and change." Suzaku tried to ignore the dull unsettled feeling that shot up through his body with the news. The servants' voices suddenly seemed as distant and muted as he felt, like they had all taken several steps back and hushed down to near-whispers.

"I got you some fresh clothes," Shirley twisted towards him, her gentle voice not doing much good here. "You can pick whichever ones you like." Suzaku nodded. "And maybe you'll find some more answers when the two of you talk?"

"Maybe," Milly added, heading with now mostly empty breakfast tray and the rest of the group to the door. "Maybe, maybe…but who am I kidding? Optimism certainly doesn't hurt!" She laughed merrily and made the last few hops to the exit. "Bye dear, we'll talk to you later!" Suzaku returned the good-bye before sliding out of bed (and happily discovering that he was far more balanced than he had been.)

Over the next hour, there were moments where it felt like the minutes were flying by—and moments where time couldn't possibly pass any slower. He selected fresh clothes to wear, bathed, and patched up the worst of his cuts from his fall out in the woods. Shirley hardly spoke the whole time, but the few words she did say helped to distract him from the prospect of what lay just ahead of him.

He didn't have a clue of what to expect from Lelouch. Anger? Denial? Frustration? Impartiality, or even gratitude? Even worse, Suzaku didn't know what he would be saying himself—he refused to think of what a disaster it would be if he found himself forced to explain just what spurred him to help. He couldn't give a proper motive if there _wasn'_t any.

He discovered years ago that he needed to learn how to lie about it, but doing just that proved far more difficult than he could have imagined. A merchant dropped his wares, and he had stopped to help pick them up. It didn't take long for disbelieving glances to hone in and chase him off, all silently asking him the same thing: _"What would make you help someone? What's in it for you?" _When he had no answer other than "Nothing," the glares forced him far away. Suzaku knew it would be good to create some defense, but he could never bring himself to it. Even if he was silently cast away soon after, at least he had helped some—and that was the same logic he was trying to apply now.

In the end, Rivalz couldn't have taken any longer to arrive. From his place by the window, staring out over the courtyard (vast, all the hedges perfectly trimmed) he turned around almost eagerly to greet the candlestick upon hearing the doors creak open. Rivalz jumped slightly in the air at Suzaku's sudden movement, landing farther back from the place he had jumped.

"Oh. All ready?" He asked, shoving the door open a bit wider.

Suzaku nodded silently, face slightly red over his hastiness. He reminded himself that it would just be better to throw out hesitation and get this done and out of the way—the longer they waited to talk, the more uncomfortable it would only become. Suddenly, and against all odds, he found himself almost believing his own advice, and hurried to meet Rivalz at the door.

"Nervous?" He asked, making Suzaku jump, despite him probably meaning no harm in the question.

"…I suppose you could say that." He forced a crooked smile, which Rivalz returned with one equally as awkward, although much better executed.

At least the walk was beautiful. He had been right—the castle was like an entirely different world when viewed in its fully lit glory. Dark, gray stone hallways seemed to be the only thing that put a damper on the glory, but they served only to make the shimmering rooms of gold, white, black, and red even bolder than they would seem if the hallways leading to them were of the same caliber. Rivalz took him down the central hall of the castle, unsurprisingly the widest and most elaborate of any. The chandelier that hung over the staircase at the end dwarfed even the ones of the entrance in its complexity and beauty.

As stunning as it all was—none of it surprised Suzaku any longer. Even after one night, Suzaku had managed to pick up a fairly decent feel of what to expect from the palace. Somehow, what did manage to surprise him (and it seemed utterly foolish later) was that the grand hall and staircase didn't lead to Lelouch's quarters, but to some sort of small library or lounge, dimly lit and complete with a fireplace (not burning), several couches and chairs, and small tables for tea and food. As soon as Suzaku was inside, Rivalz left, shooting him a quick smile, a wink, a quiet call of "good luck" and then shut the door.

Did the doors normally shut so slowly? Or close so loudly? Suzaku gulped.

He stood directly across from Suzaku on the other side of the coffee table, his back coldly facing him. He had not spoken a single word yet. He didn't seem like he was about to either.

"…Hello?" Suzaku probed shakily after a full minute of a desperately uncomfortable standing around. Lelouch responded—turning around slowly and (perhaps, Suzaku couldn't quite tell) with a long, slow sigh.

"Good morning." Still beautiful and elegant—an appearance that stole one's eye and firmly kept it. Still just as cold, still just as sad—nothing had changed there. He wore almost all black, just like the day before, only with a vest instead of a jacket, and a white shirt for contrast instead of a cravat, the bandages laced around his arm unintentionally serving the same purpose. His good arm rested beneath it, holding it close against his body with visible care. "…Did you sleep well?"

Suzaku blinked dumbly at his question. He could've sworn, he could've _sworn_, that despite the mask of calm and ease, his voice seemed almost as discomfited as his. This wasn't going to be easy for either of them.

"Oh, fine, thank you," He finally managed a reply, and without any of the natural grace Lelouch was so lucky to have. "…You're wrist, it's… you're doing well?"

"Yes," He paused, looking quietly at the floor for several long seconds. "I… wanted to thank you for that." His gaze returned to Suzaku, violet eyes meeting his. "Uncommon kindness, I suppose… You are an interesting boy." Even if it wasn't necessarily praise, Suzaku still found it hard not to be surprised at his observation and he scrambled for a suitable response.

"I don't know. I just did what seemed right." Suzaku shrugged. "I wouldn't say it's unusual…" But then again, most of the time, the two people weren't captor and prisoner—and in retrospect, that truly was just what made the whole situation _so_ unusual.

"Still, you have my thanks," Lelouch was walking towards him now with long confident strides, stopping by a chair not far away from where he stood. From the looks of it, he was more or less disregarding his insistence. Maybe it really wasn't so ordinary. "So I must ask, is…is there anything I can do for you?"

It suddenly occurred to Suzaku that at the present moment, Lelouch wasn't anywhere near as confident over this as he appeared to be. His gate may have been swift, his posture tall and straight, his face a calm, expressionless mask, but his voice gave away everything. It hesitated and wavered, undulating in tone with uncertainty, anxiety, and embarrassment. He wasn't any more comfortable than Suzaku—they were in the same position, and a challenging one with no direct answers, just on opposite sides of it.

"Oh." Suzaku realized that he still hadn't answered Lelouch, who now stared at him with a mixture of curiosity and impatience. "No, no, I don't need anything…"

"Nothing?" Lelouch raised an eyebrow.

"I don't think I need a reward for that. As I said, it was just something of a gut reaction; it's nothing special or anything," He was relieved to see the persistence in Lelouch's eyes draw back as he explained, but he was certain that it still existed. So then what? He found himself unable to decide if it would be more polite to oblige Lelouch's desire to thank him, or turn it down like he wanted to do. "…So don't worry about it."

Lately, it seemed nothing could ever be simple. Oh what one day could do.

Lelouch left Suzaku with an unreadable expression and began to walk back towards the fireplace, barring Suzaku from seeing any further reaction.

"…Then at least join me for dinner tonight."

"What?"

"Come to the dining room tonight. You don't necessarily have to think of it as any sort of gratitude from me, if that would bother you, but you should at least have a proper welcoming dinner. It doesn't have to be anything more than that." He was being sincere; Suzaku had no doubt of that. It wasn't the same gentle sincerity he gave to Nunnally, but he took it for what it was worth. For saving him, or for other reasons unknown to him, he was positive that Lelouch really meant it.

"…I guess it would be all right." He replied slowly once his thankfully quick moment of shock had passed, but he wasn't hesitant. Because things were still rocky—he still wasn't sure what to think of the young man, or what the young man thought of him, but if no effort were made, things wouldn't improve between them—they'd be stuck as enemies of a sort, two people existing in a delicate state of truce.

And even though his choices were limited now, that was certainly not how he wanted to live.

* * *

"Trying to distract yourself?"

Having been absorbed in the study of a painting (or rather telling himself that he was absorbed in the study of a painting) Milly's amplified voice from the down the hall came as a surprise. The wide hall made it echo violently, and her endless supply of energy seemed to only add to the effect.

"I can't say I'm excited." Suzaku answered carefully, politely, but while making sure his point was clear. Though he was confident she'd understand, even with her occasional quirk, she had proven herself to be considerate, at least when it came to matters such as this.

Her smile confirmed it. "Don't worry, no one's asking you to be. You know, I doubt the master is either." With that ambiguous statement for him to consider, she made her way towards him, stopping at his side to join him in viewing the painting. "It's a lovely piece, isn't it?" She giggled softly. "Of course, I can't tell you where he picked it up and how, but there's a story behind it, believe me."

"There's a story behind most of these, isn't there?" He tilted his head, squinting at the brushstrokes that constructed a bright garden and blue sky. "That is, stories that are somehow significant to you, or him, or…" He stopped before adding another name.

"Of course! I suppose art always takes on a new level when it has a personal meaning." She hummed to herself, slightly changing her viewpoint a few times. "This was a special place to him at a time."

Suzaku took yet another hard look at the piece, trying to imagine the place alive and moving, with people walking down its paths and among its flowers, and a young, dark-haired boy sitting under one of the gazebos. He almost imagined the floral scent drifting towards him and the warm sun on his back, at which point he realized that hadn't been outside since the day before.

"Having trouble?" She chimed.

Suzaku slowly shook his head, shifting his thoughts back on track. "Not exactly. It's just…" He searched for the right way to word his vague thought. "I think I can see it, I just don't think of it as _him. _I can picture him there, but the Lelouch I see there—Lelouch as a child…he doesn't seem like the same one living here."

Milly had stopped looking at the painting now, instead turning to Suzaku. He couldn't tell what she was thinking, but her eyes were searching him. For what, he didn't know, but she seemed almost pleasantly surprised.

"I don't blame you." She quieted down, turning her gaze to the floor. "He's not like he used to be." A tiny, cheerless, smile appeared for a second. "Amazing what a role family can play in your life, no?"

Not sure what to make of that, Suzaku nodded silently. Certainly it was a hint to what Lelouch had gone through, to why he acted like he did, and to the answers to many of the questions Suzaku was dying to ask, but by now, he knew better than to go pressing for anymore. For one, he understood what Milly had said on a level that he doubt she was aware of. (She _couldn't_ be, could she?) So many families had shaped his life—too many. There were days he wished that he could've just been Cecile's son, or from the village by birth or—

"But look at us, getting off subject—" Suzaku wasn't sure if he should feel relieved about that or not. Milly cut his thoughts short. "As I was saying, he's no more comfortable with this than you are. Surely you saw the way he acted back there? It's not often that the master is unable to control his nerves like that." She happily giggled that light, playful giggle of hers. "You could say he's not used to someone he can't predict."

Suzaku thoughtfully furrowed his brow at her words. "But…then why is he doing this? Won't it only make it worse?"

"Possibly. But you don't know him that well yet, now do you?" She had a point there. "Do you think he's be trying to learn about you, so that he might be able to read you as easily as he might read a book, like everyone else? Of course, that could be completely wrong." The tiny sparkle in her blue eyes and an indecipherable hint of teasing in her voice served less as a hint, and more as a way of muddling the matter even more.

"Maybe you should just relax and take it like you _normally_ take things. And from what I've seen, I think I've gathered a pretty good idea of your what that usual tactic is." Milly flashed him a wink before he could think about it any further. "Don't worry! It's not necessarily a bad one, just watch your step, darling, okay? It can just get a bit risky every now and then, that's all." Suzaku found a semblance of his smile not only at the thought of how right she might be, but at how easily, and how _quickly_ she picked things like this up. She maneuvered herself in front of Suzaku as he thought, jumping into the air with a single bound. "But give it a shot here. Planning isn't always your forte, and going against your nature like that is rarely a smart move to make when it comes to these kinds of issues. Believe me."

Suzaku paused—on one hand, she had a point—trying to fake it could easily mean disaster. On the other hand, so could blindly saying the first things that came to his mind.

"Think about it. You still have a few hours before dinner. Who knows what will happen? It ought to be interesting."

Suzaku blinked in surprise. "Are you going to be there?"

Her giggled verged on an all-out laugh this time as she began to make her exit. "We won't be far, dear, we won't be far." Suzaku hoped that meant, 'we'll be right there with you,' but he doubted that's what she meant. "Best of luck!"

* * *

Silently, he took a step forward—this time, there were no dancing pots and pans, no shouting from servants or bubbling liquid of pots and skillets, but a massive, expansive silence. A warm silence, thank God—he hallway was well lit tonight, and the golden reflective light did much to calm his nerves.

It had _seemed _like a good idea when Lelouch requested it, but now it was quickly losing rights to that title. As honest as he had seemed, courteously asking such thing, that could not foretell the actual content of the dinner itself. It was going to be awkward, and he knew it, no matter how optimistic he tried to be about it. The servants had all been polite and encouraging, telling him again and again that it'd be fine as his doubts grew in the far too long waiting period between their talk and the coming dinner, and Milly's words in the hallway didn't do him much better.

Coming to the conclusion that he was trying to stall himself. He took another hesitant step further into the dining room, which turned into another, and another as he willed himself deeper into the hall. He ended up stopping at the head of the long table, eyes following the tablecloth down to the other end and straight to his host on the other side.

"Good evening." He said softly, and as politely as he could mange without making it sound like a question instead of a greeting. Lelouch's violet eyes met his silently and he returned the salutation in an equally soft voice. A hesitant ghost of a smile followed soon after as he extended an arm, gesturing for Suzaku to take a seat. He mutely responded and creaked down into the closest chair, fumbling with the utensils and napkin.

There was something about Lelouch, something about his commanding presence that could make even the calmest, stiffest person reach a state of near panic, and Suzaku was feeling the full force of it now—and as far as he knew, Lelouch wasn't even trying to accomplish anything of the sort. No one had spoken after their greetings—both of them had instead taken to the careful assembly of food onto their plates. As the dishes piled in (not quite as many as the night before, but still plenty), for a flash, Suzaku saw Rivalz in the far corner of the doorway, Kallen not far behind him, watching them with interest and care. But the doors were closed and they were gone long before any acknowledgement of one another could be made. Indeed, he was going to be on his own for this.

"Are you at least enjoying the food?" As usual, Lelouch's attempts at sounding graceful yielded far better results than his own, and Suzaku ineptly replied with a nod. It didn't take long for him to realize his mistake and make a scramble to recover.

"Yes, it's quite good!" He really said that a bit too loudly and knew it, but there was no taking anything back here. "You're servants really are quite impressive chefs…" His voice slowly trailed off as he added to the reply. The worst part was Lelouch's expression—he was clearly a bit taken aback, but any information outside of that was well concealed.

"Well, that's… good to hear." Lelouch's eyes lingered on him for several seconds longer as he returned his gaze to his plate. Then, there was an amplified clink of plates and forks, glasses and napkins, all sounding thrice as loud as they should have been in the dead silence. As the recent pattern had shown, silence now made his head churn with all sorts of unpleasant or nagging thoughts, and it wasn't long before Suzaku was frantically racking his brain for something intelligent to say, something to diffuse the chokingly heavy air that was settling in on the dinner.

Lelouch reached an answer before he could. "I suppose we really should skip the pleasantries. Not worth trying here, hm?" He set his fork down beside is plate and looked back up to Suzaku calmly. "You know why you're here, I'm sure." Suzaku froze. "And by the looks of it, you're not open to talking about it for the moment. That's fine. In fact, I would like to avoid that just as much as you would, if not more." Suzaku relaxed at this news, but only slightly, and only for a short burst of time. It was a promising sign, but no _promise_ no matter what way you looked at it, leaving Suzaku with nothing better to do but swallow his fear and reply to the best of his ability.

"What are you getting at then?" He rushed and jumped trying to keep up with the young man's thought process, but never seemed to quite get it within his grasp.

"I'll simply say thank you for now." Suzaku frowned to this—had he not already done that? "But—you are a curious person, and beyond that—or maybe because of that—I still feel a need to repay you. So, if you don't mind… I'd like to show you something." Suzaku had now replaced his utensils on the table, suddenly unable to eat. "I don't normally allow others in—it's a retreat of sorts, I suppose, but I'll make an exception here. If you'll come with me after we're finished…" He looked to Suzaku in search of a response.

Suzaku didn't reply right away. He watched Lelouch, whose eyes intently focused in on him, whose face betrayed a mixture of worry, hope, and something unidentifiable. He thought of all the reasons Lelouch might find him strange, or why he might be thankful for assistance. He thought of what he'd done to Lloyd, then of Nunnally, of the rose, of a man who risked his life for another's and then—after much confusion, all packed into a tiny sliver of a second—found his reply.

"I suppose… if you insist on it…it couldn't hurt." He pushed a shaky smile to the surface, and wasn't as surprised as he maybe he should have been to find a hint of genuine meaning there.

And some unknown intuition told him that it was present in Lelouch's too.

* * *

All right, time for the big apology. If this chapter sucked... I'm not surprised. I'm not happy with it at all. So, I realize that it was probably boring, repetitive, and of overall lower quality than usual. As I said- May was something of an adventure. I'm not asking you to go easy on this chapter or me or anything like that because of this, but I want to apologize and let you all know that I'm not screwing you guys over and letting my own standards slip. So, I am very, very sorry. Hopefully things will look brighter next month and the quality will return to usual. ^_^

Thanks for reading though! I love you all~~~ And your reviews. *bricked*


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